


Bloody Valentine

by SadEnergy



Category: Eminem (Musician), Machine Gun Kelly (Musician)
Genre: Age Difference, Ahegao, Angst, Ariana Grande (mentioned) - Freeform, Attempted Murder, BDSM, Beating, Blindness, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Brainwashing, Burnplay, Daddy Kink, Feminization, Forced Feminization, I swear, Kidnapping, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Sadism, Stockholm Syndrome, Urination, corpse party kind of gore, im sorry mom, super gory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:28:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 32,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27125203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadEnergy/pseuds/SadEnergy
Summary: **This story is W.I.P. Meaning I will be editing and polishing chapters that are already up, to make them better!**Colson Baker is a rock-star, who wants it all. He wants fame, money and glory. And he gets it. After a long, difficult life of trying, Colson makes a name for himself as Machine Gun Kelly. Someone who isn't afraid of anything, and is a fighter.Marshall Mathers is a successful man. He has money, connections and a passion for making music. Except he's hiding a dark secret. Behind his normal job and life, Marshall's alter-ego, Shady, has developed an obsession with a certain blond. Convincing his host to let him kidnap Colson, Marshall has to balance his everyday lifestyle with the fact that THE Machine Gun Kelly is chained to a pipe in his basement.**This fanfic is not for the faint of heart. There is A LOT of gore. You've been warned.**
Relationships: Colson Baker | Machine Gun Kelly/Eminem
Comments: 13
Kudos: 97





	1. Encounter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CosmicBash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicBash/gifts).



Marshall wasn’t someone who went along with his demon’s plans easily. He was entirely against the idea of Shady kidnapping his idol, a man he had grown an obsession over. It was as insane as it sounded. However, the aching in his joints and bags under his eyes clearly indicated that Shady would take his physical form for a ride when he was asleep. The asshole had grown way too comfortable having the light in Marshall’s body, but the host was too busy and tired to argue. 

Shady had brought light to his obsession in the middle of a meeting, which was bad enough on its own. Marshall was busily reading and highlighting some sort of agreement form, when Shady began to speak, telling his host about the things he wanted to do to the blond. He jumped from detailed descriptions of pulling his teeth out and making a necklace out of them, to fucking the rockstar until he passed out from exhaustion. It was brutal to listen to, and it had to have been evident, as Paul pointed out the blush on his cheeks. 

It was an understatement to say that Marshall and Shady fought. From what they should eat for lunch to what they should wear, it was an endless loop of swearing and yelling. Marshall’s biggest threat towards Shady was telling Paul about “voices in his head” and getting the medication that would successfully shut Shady out. 

Meanwhile, Shady would not only threaten Marshall with physical harm, but he would deliver too. Marshall would constantly wake up with bruises on his stomach, neck and legs. Cuts and scrapes littering his skin, and occasionally, a limp. He was a big boy, and could easily picture what Shady would do when Marshall was asleep. However, after Shady threatened him, saying that he would take Marshall’s body to some sketchy alleyway and let some thugs run a train on him, the host finally caved in. 

“Fine!” he eventually shouted to the mirror in his hallway. “But I swear, if I wake up with anything suggesting you got me fucked, it’s a wrap for you.” he hissed, pulling on a black hoodie, zipping it up to cover the white wifebeater. He had finally allowed Shady to take over and take his “princess” for himself.

On the other side of the city, Colson was throwing back shots, completely unaware of the dark future ahead. He had convinced Rook to come along, but he had just ended up drunk, passed out in the corner of their booth, dicks and curse words scribbled on his face in sharpie. Colson knew it was mean and a dick move, but he was having too much fun at the party to care. While running his hands through the hair of a pretty girl he had picked up at the bar, Colson pressed a kiss against her neck. 

He was already planning the rest of his night, which involved even more liquor, some weed and a good, long fuck. She was wearing open toed heels too, so that was a bonus. “Hey, I’m gonna go out for a smoke,” he said, watching her get off of his lap. “When I’m back we can call an uber and get to my place.” he flirted, getting up. Reaching for his bag, Colson grabbed his lighter, carton of cigarettes and his phone. Because his hands were full, and fashion had decided that pockets don’t belong on skinny jeans, Colson pulled at the hem of his pants, tucking his phone into his boxers.

“It’s doing shit like that,” the girl spoke up, taking a sip from her mimosa. “That’s gonna fry up your balls y’know.” she laughed.

Colson couldn’t help a laugh himself. “My balls are made of steel,” he assured. “They can handle it for ten minutes.” he promised, pushing past his friends, making his way through the crowd and towards the double doors that led outside. The cold November air was so refreshing compared to the damp and suffocating warmth of the club. Once outside, Colson got to work, lighting a cigarette and sticking it between his lips. He caught sight of a sketchy man coming down the alleyway, but he shrugged it off as some drunk looking for a place to take a piss in. 

Until the man slammed against Colson’s shoulder, and quickly ran off. 

“What the fuck man?!” Colson shouted, dusting his shoulder off, fixing his jacket. He looked down at where his cigarette was dropped. “Great,” he said, reaching into his pocket to get a new one. “What the…” he looked up at the direction the man had ran off in. “Asshole stole my shit!” he blurted, picking up speed and running after him. He ran and ran, yelling at the man to come out and fight him, man to man, but to no avail. Colson slowed down, bending over to place his hands onto his knees, gasping to catch his breath. His tarred lungs could only take so much, thanks to the amount of smoke he inhaled on the daily. “Son of a bitch.” he whispered, placing a hand on his chest to soothe his rapid heartbeat. 

Colson reached into his jeans, pulling out his phone. Unlocking it using facial recognition, he dialed Baze’s phone number, pressing the phone to his ear, waiting for his friend to pick up. When he called for a third time and still got no answer, Colson groaned, shoving the phone back into his briefs. “Fuck it,” he whispered. “Might as well go back. It was just a fucking lighter and some sticks.” he decided. Returning to the club was the best course of action, maybe then he could get help from his friends.

That was the plan anyway, until a loud, metallic thud emitted, echoing in the empty alleyway. Colson’s vision blurred, a trickle of red leaking down his forehead. The pulsing pain was the worst part, it felt like his head was being split open, his skull on the verge of cracking. Before he could turn to see who, or what, had whacked him against the head with a pipe, hammer or even a pan, he was hit again. Colson lost his footing, falling to the dirty, wet concrete. Trying to scramble away as quickly as he could, Colson lost interest in what was happening. He just wanted to survive. Right before a third hit, Colson heard his attacker speak. 

“Damn you’re a feisty one, aren’t you, princess?”

Those words were all Colson heard, before he was hit for a third time, this time successfully losing consciousness.


	2. Becoming Turbid

When Colson regained consciousness, he couldn’t open his eyes, as they hurt his head too much. Instead, he tried to focus on what he could smell, touch and hear. He could smell bleach. So much that it was nauseating. Bleach… and paint. Fresh paint that was still wet to the touch. He couldn’t touch anything, his hands were tied behind his back. With rope? No, upon further struggle Colson realized it was a zip tie, bound tightly against his wrists.  _ Kidnapped.  _ Colson decided.  _ I’ve been kidnapped.  _ Panic began to loom over him, seeping through his mind, as he began to struggle to move. “Hello?! I wanna be able to use my arms, so please,” He forced his eyes open, pushing away the pain it caused in his head to do so. “Un...tie… me…” he trailed off. There was a brief flash of white as his eyes adjusted to the room. When they did, Colson nearly passed out from the sight. 

Dozens of posters and pictures of him plastered onto the wall like some sort of an investigation board. His albums were scattered on the floor like forgotten garbage, and the hoodies he had just released to his websites were pinned to the wall like trophies. It was becoming more and more evident that a crazed fan had to have been responsible for this. The room’s walls were pink, but they could not have been the result of the smell of paint. If the paint was fresh, the posters wouldn’t stick. Not to mention some of it was starting to chip already, suggesting that the room was painted months ago. Another thing Colson couldn’t explain was the overpowering smell of bleach. The floor was carpeted, and there weren’t any stains to suggest that bleach had spilt there. 

The worst part was the silence. It was like the lack of noise was weighing down the room further. He could hear the ringing in his ears, and the blood flowing in his veins, things you wouldn’t hear under normal circumstances. That’s when Colson realized why the silence was engulfing him. He was in a soundproof room. It was the familiar silence he experienced in a recording studio. It terrified him as to why he was put into a soundproof room. 

Colson started to struggle.  _ Fuck… this isn’t working.  _ He moved from his current position, which was laying limply on the floor like a corpse, to sitting on his knees.  _ My head feels like it’s gonna split… I can’t stop this ringing in my ears.  _ The headache stopped him from being able to stand, so he tried the next available choice. But even when he tried to move any further using his knees, his attempts proved futile, as a loud clanking of metals stopped him abruptly, causing Colson to fall forward, hitting the floor face first. “Ouch!” he groaned, shifting to see what was going on.

His ankle was handcuffed to an exposed pipe. Colson could feel the dread of hopelessness loom over him, but he forced the thoughts away. “I’m not dying in here,” he whispered. “I got concerts to do.” he announced quietly, sitting back up on his knees. Looking around him, Colson tried to come up with a way out. It was despairing until his eyes darted to a small window in the upper left corner on one of the walls. It was small, too small for Colson to fit through, but there had to be people out there, and he could cry for help. 

With his plan in mind, Colson glanced back at his ankle. “Now I need a way out of these.” However, before a single solution could cook up in his mind, a click was heard from above. Colson was so panicked that he didn’t even notice the stairs leading up.  _ A basement…  _ he realized. Quickly lying back into his initial position, Colson closed his eyes, only peeking when the stranger wasn’t looking.  _ Now to see who this cunt is.  _

To his surprise, his kidnapper wasn’t a girl who thought she was meant for Colson. In fact, his kidnapper looked like the kind of guy who would bring his  _ daughter  _ to one of his concerts. He was a grown man, definitely over thirty five. Built, lean and muscular. He was dressed in a white wife beater and worn out jeans. Colson couldn’t see his face, as the man was facing away. Unfortunately, the impact of the hits Colson had taken to the head had slowed his reflexes down, and he couldn’t close his eyes in time to act unconscious. 

“You’re awake?”

And then it clicked. It was the same voice from the alleyway. So this was the guy who had kidnapped Colson. Was this some kind of sick prank? Had Rook and Slim found out about Colson’s obsession with being dominated? He was hoping for any of those possibilities. At this rate, he would gladly take his friends laughing at him for months more than actually being kidnapped. Is this what the people Pete watched videos about went through? The same panic, disturbance, and fear? Would Colson die here?

“Hey.”

The snapping of fingers in his face pulled Colson out of his thoughts, and he looked up at the man. With one look at the man’s face, the blond’s blood ran cold. His eyes were glossed over, like a dead fish. Void of emotion, thought, and life. It was like he was a ghost. He had dark brown hair and a stubble. Colson was embarrassed to admit that under normal circumstances, he would find the man hot. Not this though. This was anything but normal. This was the worst case scenario. If his kidnapper was some twenty year old girl, he could easily fight her and win. However, he was visibly more built than Colson. It was hopeless. Colson blinked away the tears that were forming, clouding his vision, and looked away from the ghostly gaze of his kidnapper. 

“Don’t cry,” the stranger said, standing up. “Shady’ll take care of you.” he promised. His voice was dry, monotonous and cold. He bent over at an angle slightly, reaching out and ruffling Colson’s blond locks in a condescending manner. His facial expressions didn’t change. He was still staring at Colson with stone cold eyes.  _ Shady  _ pulled away, stepping back. “You hungry?”

_ What the fuck kind of question is that you sicko?!  _ Colson glared. He wanted to spit in the freak’s face and scream at him to let him go, but he knew better. With eyes like that, God himself didn’t know what he had seen and done to get here. “...”

Shady sat down, crossing his legs. “I can do this all day, Colson.” he simply said. “I got nothing to do today.” It was like that sentence had jinxed it, because moments after he said that, there was a loud ring that resembled a doorbell, heard from upstairs. “You have until I come back to decide if you’re hungry.” Shady said, standing up. “It’s not a trick question. You haven’t eaten in seven hours.” he said, before turning on his heel and heading upstairs.

Hearing the door click, Colson let out a heavy breath.  _ Seven hours. I left the club around one. So it’s eight in the morning.  _ He concluded.  _ I refuse to eat anything this freak brings me.  _ Colson took the chance he had alone to look around again, trying to put together more pieces of what had happened, and where he could be. Evidently, he was in this freak’s house, given the basement, the doorbell, and the way the steps didn’t creak. This wasn’t a forgotten warehouse or old abandoned building, as it was very well kept and neat. There was a desk beside the stairs, but Colson couldn’t see what was on it. All he could see was a desk lamp, which was turned off. Muffled voices from upstairs turned his attention away from the desk. He could only make out a few words.

_ “... definitely. No, sorry … next door.” _

_ “Thanks man … interrupt.” _

There was one detail that sent shivers up Colson’s spine. This Shady guy sounded significantly different from when he was in the basement. He almost sounded like a new person. His voice had emotion, tone and depth. Hearing steps come closer to the door, Colson began to panic. He struggled against his restraints, trying to pull his way out. His attempts were ceased when Shady came down the stairs.

“Are they too tight?”

Colson looked up in confusion. Why did he care? Didn’t kidnappers usually torture their victims? Like Junko Furata, or Fan Man-Yee. Tortured souls trapped in a loop of pain and suffering, wasn’t that what kidnappers did? “...yes.” Colson caught himself saying. He was scared before, of what a crazed fan could do. He had heard stories about Korean idols whose fans hide in their cars, or try to poison them. But now he was just confused. Why was Shady giving a shit about his hunger and comfort? Was it a trap?

Before he could do much, Shady was already walking towards him with scissors. Scenes of a horror game Rook played flashed at the back of Colson’s head. Corpse… something. Some fucked up game where a murderer stabs his victim’s eye out with a pair of rusty scissors before cutting out their tongues. Colson used to make fun of Rook’s interest in such disturbing content, but now he was in a similar situation, and it was not funny at all. Colson quickly scooted back, in fear of what Shady could do to him with those scissors. 

Shady seemed completely unfazed by the reaction, and kept taking steps forward. He did this until Colson’s back hit the wall with a soft thud. He kneeled down, holding the scissors out, almost as a peace offering. “Here, let me cut them.” his face was void of expression, but even then, Colson couldn’t detect any malicious intent. When the blond shifted and turned around to expose his restrained wrists, Shady slid the blade in between them, snipping the plastic ties off. 

_ What… What is he doing?  _ Colson asked himself. He pulled his hands forward, examining his wrists. There were red lines running across his wrists as a result of the struggle. Colson shifted, turning to try and sit in his original position, but that was cut short as soon as he turned his face. Shady was about half of an inch from his face, his icy hazel eyes staring directly into Colson’s baby blues. The pupils were so small, nearly impossible to see at first glance. It was like looking into the eyes of a madman. There was a soft thud that was heard when Shady dropped the scissors onto the carpeted floor. Colson’s breath hitched in his throat, but before he could say anything about how the man was way too close, Shady grabbed him by the cheeks, forcing the blond into a kiss. 

His lips were cold, like kissing a dead person. Colson used his now unrestrained hands to shove the older man off, using his free leg to kick him at the chest, knocking him back even further. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” he shouted, wiping at his mouth in disgust. “You fucking freak, I’m not gay you asshole!”

Shady laid on the floor, and stopped moving for a brief amount of time. It was long enough that Colson thought he had knocked him out. So he used his foot to poke him. When Shady jolted and shot upwards, Colson scrambled back with a surprised gasp. Shady… looked different. Not physically, he looked the same. His eyes were full of life, and the kick to the chest seemed to have hurt him enough to have him panting. “What the fuck…” he said, his voice rough. He looked up at Colson, his eyebrows raising. “Oh, you’re Shady’s princess. I’m Marshall,” he said, using his knees to stand up. “I’m Shady’s host.” he explained, rubbing his chest. “You’ve got a good amount of strength kid. Kicked him right out of me.” he said, turning on his heel and making his way to the stairs. “I’d sleep if I were you. Shady gets extra hard to tame at night.”


	3. Nail

The time Colson spent alone was brutal. He was limited to three options: crying, sleeping and thinking. He could see a small glimmer of light from the window, and knew it was a little bit past eight thirty. Colson decided to use the said window as a clock, so he wouldn’t go insane. After all, being left in the unknown was what chipped away and a man’s mind, and Colson was no different. He ended up falling asleep briefly, only because he had nothing else to do. Whenever he slurred awake, a flash of panic would make him sit up, until he realized where he was and escaping was near impossible. The only thing keeping from the window was the handcuffs holding him against the pipe. After he fell asleep for a third time, Colson woke up because of the aching pain in his back. With a yawn, he realized that it was most likely because he had spent so many hours laying on a hard floor. 

Colson glanced up at the window, concluding that it had to be near noon, if not past it already.  _ Rook is waiting for me at the tour bus right now.  _ Colson thought grimly.  _ I wonder if they realize I’m gone.  _ Thinking about his friend made Colson well up with tears. He began to sniffle, wiping at his eyes repeatedly. Slowly but surely, Colson went from sobbing quietly to wailing like a child looking for his mother. He began begging the air in the room to let him go, as if that would achieve anything. Colson wanted to see his friends again. He even promised out loud to stop mistreating Rook for his height and stop forcing Slim and Baze to drag him home when he was drunk. 

While crying for his friends, a figurative light bulb lit up in Colson’s head. He jolted up from where he was laying, patting himself down. He had just remembered how he left his phone in his briefs, and the girl’s comment about how it was dangerous. If Shady, Marshall, or whoever the fuck, was dumb enough to keep him in his clothes, there wasn’t a chance they would know about his phone. Pulling his phone out of his underwear, Colson smiled in relief. There were several missed calls, most of them from Rook. “I only have ten percent, I should be quick.” he said, dialing Rook’s phone number. 

“Kells? Where are you man?!”

Colson could barely hold in his laugh. “Rook! Man am I glad to hear your voice! I’m in real trouble, some freak with two personalities knocked me out and-” He couldn’t explain much more before the same pulsing pain from the alleyway revisited him, his vision blacking out. In hindsight, it was stupid of Colson to think he was completely unsupervised, and even if he was, making a phone call and getting away with it would be so easy. 

When he regained consciousness, he was no longer in the pink room, and the stench of bleach was stronger than before. He was in a bathtub. His wrists were tied, but this time, so were his legs. Not only was he gagged, but he had been stripped down to his boxers as well. Colson’s breathing began to quicken, as he realized how badly he fucked up just by making that phone call. He struggled against the restraints, but stopped abruptly when the door clicked open. Colson looked up, and was met with the same icy eyes from before.

“I trusted you.” Shady said, closing the door. “I cut the zip tie off because I wanted you to see that I’m not here to hurt you. That’s not my goal.” he explained taking a seat onto the toilet. “Marshall has a meeting in an hour, so I have until then to tell you why I took you.”

Colson could feel himself well up at the man’s words. Whatever sick fantasy he had built up in his head, was going to hurt him inevitably. He muffled a soft  _ please  _ through the gag, and felt the pit in his stomach deepen when Shady laughed. His laugh was cold, satirical and sarcastic. 

“You’re such a braindead whore,” he said, standing up. With a few steps, Shady approached the tub, lifting his leg before bringing it down with a full force, slamming it onto Colson’s chest, knocking the air out of his chest cavity. He began to rant over Colson’s ragged breathing and coughs. “Of course I don’t blame you, always drunk or high on pills, no wonder you’ve lost your ability to think. I mean seriously, you really thought calling your friend is gonna get you out of here?” he asked. His voice was still flat, but it was easy to hear the rage that was hiding behind it. “I thought I was doing the right thing, showing you I’m not a monster. But maybe that’s what you need.” he suggested, taking a step back and turning to open one of the cabinet drawers.

Fearful of what a simple phone call could have done, Colson began to jerk against his restraints frantically, apologizing and begging for a second chance. However, it all came out muffled. Regardless, it seemed to have caught Shady’s attention, because he stopped, turning his head at an unnatural angle to look at Colson. “Sorry princess. I would take out the gag to hear you beg, but I like it the way it is.” he approached the bathtub again, kneeling down next to Colson. “I like hearing you beg, while you choke on your spit. Bet it would sound even hotter when it’s my cock instead of a rag.” he continued. “I think… you would sound just like a pornstar. After all, Marshall and I always believed you got your star status while on your knees. Choking down a higher up’s dick, feeling the cum run down your throat.”

_ What… what the fuck is he… I can’t listen to this!  _ Colson let out a muffled whine, tugging against the plastic wires that were holding his wrists together.  _ I have to… get out of here. He thinks I’m some kind of whore… and that I’m willing to spread my legs for him. I can’t live like this. Either I get out, or he kills me.  _ He decided, looking up at Shady. 

Shady seemed like he had a lot to say, but he stopped his rant when he noticed how Colson was looking at him. A mix of fear and anger, swimming in those baby blues, oh how Shady wanted to make him cry. It was visible that Colson wanted to say something, so he reached over and tugged at the rag, pulling it out of Colson’s mouth. As soon as he did, a filthy amount of saliva landed on his face, as Colson spat on him from disgust. 

“You fucking sicko! You think you can just snatch people off the street because they’re your idol?! What the fuck is wrong with you? Let me go or so help me God I will fuck you up beyond recognition!” Colson was on fire. From the repeated head trauma, to the detailed sexual insults, it was evident that there was not an ounce of respect for him here. “You think you can make me fall for this two personality bullshit?! You’re just some incel and this is probably your mom’s basement! And you’re mad because you’re a virgin at forty-two!”

While Colson was screaming his heart out and calling Shady every name under the sun, Shady brought a hand up to his face and wiped away the spit. He wanted to tell Colson how threatening him would only get him into more trouble, but before he could say anything, the older man felt a spark in his head.

_ Hey, dickhead. I need to take over. Meeting’s starting soon.  _

Shady frowned when Marshall spoke to him through his place at the back of the brain, where demons like Shady were made and stayed. He only needed a few more minutes with Colson. He needed to show the blond that throwing a tantrum was what would get him hurt. Initially, he was going to threaten Colson with such detail that the blond would pass out from fear alone, but Marshall made it clear that he was in a hurry. “Forty-eight,” he corrected. “But I admit, Marshall aged like fine wine.” he complimented, getting up and taking a step away from the bathtub. “Regardless,” Shady pulled the drawer open, and retrieved a pair of rusty pliers. “I don’t appreciate you talking about me  _ or  _ Marshall that way.”

Colour drained from Colson’s face at the sight of the pliers. He could feel his blood slow down to a stop in his veins, his heart beating so rapidly, it felt like it could break out of his ribcage. He couldn’t find the words to verbalize his fear, and he could feel his abdomen twist.  _ No, no, no!!  _ He tried to move, but the fear of what those pliers could do to him was paralyzing. The twisting in his abdomen grew worse and Colson realized the panic of the situation had rushed down to his bowels. He twisted his legs to the best of his ability considering his restraints, trying to soothe the pressure. 

“I keep telling you,” Shady started, approaching the bathtub with heavy, threatening steps. “I don’t want to hurt you, but from how you’ve been acting,” he took a seat on the edge of the bathtub. “I think you  _ want  _ to be hurt, don’t you princess?” the older man gripped onto Colson’s wrists, yanking them towards himself. “With the way you paint your pretty little nails pink, I think you want someone to rip them off.”

Explicitly stating what he was going to do to Colson’s hands seemed to have been the ritual to break Colson’s frozen frame. The blond began to cry, and not out of fear or anger, like he was feeling before. No, Colson started crying out of desperation. He wailed loudly, only being stopped by an occasional hiccup. “Please! Please don’t rip them off!” he begged, sniffling loudly. He wasn’t doing anything to get out of Shady’s grip either, because he was too scared to. If kicking his pride to the curb and begging for his life was what he had to do to survive, then so be it. “I’m sorry please,” he decided that he wasn’t going to stop until Shady let his hands go, or drop the pliers. “I won’t talk bad anymore, please just leave my nails alone.” he sobbed pathetically.

Shady could feel his dick grow harder and harder as he watched Colson cry like he was at the funeral of a loved one. With a playful smirk on his face, he brought the pliers closer to Colson’s hand, laughing teasingly when Colson cried louder. “Oh my God, will you relax? I wasn’t going to-” he stopped mid-sentence, peering over and into the bathtub. “No fucking way.” he said quietly, looking up at Colson. “You  _ pissed  _ yourself?!” Shady began laughing, unable to hold in the snort that jumped out. “That’s hysterical! Machine Gun fucking Kelly just pissed himself in my bathtub.”

_ My bathtub, and will you shut the fuck up and move over? I’m serious Shady if I’m late to this meeting I’ll gladly let him go. _

Shady grunted, struggling to keep control over Marshall’s body. “He pissed himself, how cute is that, Marshall?” he cooed, bringing his free hand towards Colson’s crotch, gripping his length, clearly not caring about his soiled underwear. “Just like a cute animal.” he whispered, stroking Colson’s dick. 

Colson, albeit ashamed of losing control, couldn’t help a moan, feeling his dick grow hard a

s it was touched. He moaned under his breath, twitching visibly, which seemed to amuse Shady further. “P-please.” he whispered, shifting uncomfortably in the tub. “It’s… it’s gross.” he whined, trying to turn away, movements restricted because of the bonds.

His kidnapper pulled his hand away, smiling condescendingly. “Couldn’t hold it in baby girl?” he asked. “Don’t worry, this is what Shady’s here for.” he whispered, like he was speaking to a child. With a chuckle, Shady ran a hand through Colson’s hair. “Good girl, good girl.” he repeated under his breath.


	4. Purgatory

The shame Colson was feeling couldn’t be put into words. To not only wet yourself but to have someone  _ laugh  _ at you about it? His face was flushed red and he couldn’t figure out if it was because of his crying or the humiliation. Surprisingly, at the back of his head, a fragment of Colson didn’t care that he urinated all over himself, because it was what seemed to have made Shady back off with the pliers. The pliers had scared him so bad that the strange act of petting his hair and calling him a good girl was enchanting, if not comforting. He was working on regaining control over his breathing when Shady shot up from where he was sitting. The blond watched his kidnapper grip onto his head, scratching at his skull, and stumbling backwards, grabbing onto the counter for support.

“No!” Shady shouted, his voice strained, like an immense force was crushing him from his chest. “No, no! Stop it I just got him to calm down!” he sounded like he was in pain. He tightened his grip on the edges of the counter, and against his physical will, slammed his forehead into the mirror. The glass shattered, falling onto the floor and into the sink, some pieces significantly bigger than others. The protests stopped, silence ensuing. All that could be heard was the drops of blood hitting the surface below. 

“... dickhead.” he whispered, pulling away from the mirror. He turned to Colson, who flinched visibly. “Fancy seeing you here, again.” he said, reaching for the toilet paper. “I have a meeting in five minutes, and Shady wasn’t letting go.” he explained, turning the faucet just slightly, wetting the toilet paper. “Guess you pissing yourself seriously turned him on.”

_ So this must be… Marshall. _ Colson thought, staring at the man, unable to move a muscle.

Marshall calmly began to tap onto his wound with the damp paper towel. “Alright, well, I’ll see you around.” he said, turning on his heel to leave. He only stopped when Colson called after him. Marshall turned his head, looking at the blond. “Hm? What is it?”

“Get me out of here?!” Colson demanded, frustrated that he had to point out the obvious. “Did… did you not see what he did to me? He was gonna rip my nails off!” he cried, struggling against the bonds. Maybe this was Colson’s way out. If he could build a trust with Marshall, behind Shady’s back, the host could let him go. Colson had to admit, it was hard to disprove the double personality idea. No one, no matter how insane, could put on such a believable show. Smashing your own head against glass for control? It had to be real. “Please, he’ll hurt me.” Colson was aware of how pathetic he must have sounded, but his pride had been shredded away the moment his bowels were emptied against his will. 

Marshall turned away from the door, and kneeled down next to the tub. He brought his hand forward, above Colson’s head and petted him softly. It was different from when Shady did it. When it was Shady, being pet felt condescending, but with Marshall, it was just… nice. “Hey, you’ll be okay,” he started, his voice soft. “He won’t hurt you if you listen to him.” Marshall’s voice was what made the biggest difference. If Shady said those same sentences, Colson would take it as a threat. But when Marshall was saying them, it was comforting them. “If you just listen to what he says, suck up to him, he’ll actually treat you nicely. That’s why he brought you here. To spoil you, to have you be his princess or whatever he calls it.” he explained. When Colson didn’t respond, Marshall quieted down as well.

After sitting next to Colson in silence, Marshall let out a long exhale, standing up. “I’m sorry I can’t stay longer, and I can’t mess with Shady’s plans,” he admitted, reaching into his pocket. “But have this,” he held out the small gift. It was a square shaped chocolate, smaller than the palm of his hand. “I’ll hide it in your jacket,” Marshall explained. “Shady told me he’s gonna give your clothes back to you when you’re out of this tub.”

Colson felt a warmth begin to glow in his chest at the small act of kindness. In such a brutal situation, where bruises were blooming around Colson’s head, and humiliation was the prominent feeling, receiving a chocolate was a blessing. “Thank… you.” he whispered, watching Marshall take his leave. When the door clicked shut, Colson felt himself smile, looking at the broken mirror. “He’s actually… nice.” he whispered, like he couldn’t believe it. He could feel his cheeks heat up, and for the first time since he was brought here, not from humiliation. The simple act of kindness was so heartwarming that Colson felt like he was falling for the older man. 

Despite the uncomfortable ceramic and disgusting, damp underwear he was in, Colson actually ended up falling asleep. The simple act of having someone like Marshall comfort him was calming enough for him to successfully relax. Surprisingly, the next time he woke up was because Shady jerked him with his elbow. He slurred a little bit, but when his vision cleared, he looked up, quickly remembering what Marshall had said. If he did as Shady asked, he wouldn’t hurt him. How hard could it be? “...?”

Shady had a bandaid on his forehead, and was now wearing a grey tracksuit. He was carrying a plastic box, small enough to hold with one hand, but clearly, it was heavy enough to need both hands to carry. Shady placed the box onto the countertop, retrieving the content inside. Shampoo, conditioner, body wash and a pink loofah. He placed them next to the bathtub. “Alright. I’m willing to try this again.” he said. “I’ll cut the zip ties, and let you shower on your own,” he held up a finger, indicating a  _ but  _ coming up. “However, if you even try to run or fight,” he reached into his hoodie pocket, and pulled out a knife. “I  _ will  _ hurt you.” he said. “You seriously need to understand that I have no hesitation about cutting off your arms and legs, crippling you for the rest of your life. You’ll have no choice but to stay put, while I fuck you as I please. Capiche?”

Colson had been there long enough to know that Shady’s threats were real, so he nodded limply. He couldn’t help a flinch when Shady stepped closer, the knife still in his hand. Fortunately, he used it to cut through the plastic ties, freeing Colson’s limbs. “Thank you.” he said quietly, avoiding eye contact. When he glanced up at Shady, the older seemed to connect what Colson was thinking. 

“I’m staying right here. You can get started.” he stated leaning against the wall. 

The blond let out a sigh, something in between disappointment and relief. He knew that if he was left alone, despite Shady’s threats, he would try and make a run for it. So, reluctantly, he started to move, standing up. It was difficult as his legs were wobbling badly.  _ I haven’t eaten in a while… maybe I should ask for food. Or will he feed me?  _ Colson wondered as reached for the faucet. He felt uncomfortable washing up with Shady watching, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask the other to turn away. So he decided to just suck it up and clean himself up. 

It was amazing how much a shower could help. Colson was feeling immensely better already, and he wasn’t even out of the bathtub yet. When he was finished, he turned the faucet off, and faced Shady, awkwardly covering his crotch with his hands. He had no choice to discard his underwear, since it was filthy. “I… I’m finished.” he announced, his voice dry and tired.

“Good girl.” Shady said, with a smile, opening the cabinet below the counter, pulling out a towel. “Here,” he said, tossing it to Colson. “It’s nine at night right now, you should get some rest.” he said, standing his ground, waiting for Colson to dry up. “I prepared a place for you to actually sleep in.”

Colson’s mouth felt clogged, but, without a complaint, he wrapped the towel around his abdomen, regardless of the pit growing in his stomach. Whatever Shady had planned, couldn’t be worse than sleeping on hard carpet or a ceramic bathtub. He stepped out of the tub, following Shady out of the bathroom, and back into the pink room, where posters of him were still as prevalent. However, one thing that was now different was a large mattress, covered with a pink blanket on the floor, near the exposed pipe from before. There were pillows, a duvet and a bowl filled with water. All of them were pink. Usually, Colson wouldn’t view the colour pink as feminine, but the large neon lights that spelled out  _ Princess  _ above the pillows definitely spoke volumes. Shady was into feminization. 

Despite how much pink he wore on a regular basis, Colson valued his masculinity. He was definitely feeling uncomfortable about how Shady was trying to make him into some kind of Lolita ripoff. But he wasn’t about to argue. So far, Marshall’s words had held up. All Colson had done was stop struggling, and he was given a bed, and a shower. While on the other hand, arguing and being rude had gotten him knocked out, soiled himself, and threatened to have his nails ripped off. It didn’t matter what Shady wanted, Colson wasn’t going to give up his masculinity. Even if he slept in a pink bed, and used shampoos that smelled like vanilla and cherry blossoms, none of it mattered. Colson was a man, and that wasn’t going to change.


	5. Demise

With a hard swallow, Colson tried to calm himself down. Clearly, through trial and error, panic was not something useful, so Colson glanced at Shady. He had a million questions, but he figured if he played the dumb blond and asked them one at a time, Shady would answer. It was already evident that Shady found Colson cute, and if he was into feminization and breaking people’s pride, then maybe he could actually manipulate the situation to benefit him. “Um… is… is this gonna be my room?”

“Yeah.” Shady simply said, moving from where he was standing next to Colson, to across the room. From the same desk by the stairs, Shady grabbed Colson’s clothes, giving them back. “You can wear this, it’s a pair of Marshall’s underwear. Just until I wash yours.” he said. “Anyway, Marshall’s going out tonight, so I won’t be around for a while.” he folded his index finger and tucked it under Colson’s chin, holding onto it with his thumb. Tilting the blond’s head down slightly, Shady placed a kiss onto Colson’s lips. To his surprise, Colson didn’t fight like last time.  _ Fast learner isn’t he, Marshall?  _ He thought. “Good girl.” he whispered, petting Colson’s head again. With that said, Shady turned around and marched up the stairs, shutting, and noticeably locking the basement door. 

As soon as he was gone, Colson began shuffling through his clothes, checking all the pockets. He unzipped his leather jacket’s pocket, and his heart skipped a beat. “... the chocolate.” he whispered, taking the small treat out. Without realizing it, Colson smiled, tucking the chocolate back into its hiding place, zipping the pocket. Colson figured he wouldn’t be leaving the basement anytime soon, so he just settled for the clean underwear and his loose, white shirt. “I wonder…” he started looking up at the window. “What’s gonna happen to me?” he whispered, turning his gaze to the bed he was given. “I’m so tired…” 

Colson’s legs seemed to be moving on their own command, as they dragged the blond towards the bed. He dropped to his knees, adjusting the pillows and duvet before laying down.  _ So soft… it’s like sleeping on cotton candy.  _ He thought, inhaling comfortably.  _ It smells like… peach. Like the sponge cakes Rook always gets at that Japanese cafe.  _ His comfort was briefly disrupted when he thought of his friend.  _ I shouldn’t have made that phone call. Now Rook’s gonna be worried, and I have no way of telling him I’m okay.  _ Colson gripped the pillow he was holding tightly against his chest.  _ Maybe I can ask Marshall to tell him.  _ He thought, yawning. The comfort of the bed was making him sleepy.  _ Marshall was right, it’s a lot easier if I just listen to him. It’s even… nice. NO! What am I saying?! I’m just playing along to get out. That’s it. _

Unbeknownst to him, it was Colson’s own stupidity that would screw him over. Thinking that this was all Shady wanted from him was plain idiotic on Colson’s part. Because his slumber was cut short when he heard the clattering of metal. He jolted upwards, and was met with Shady locking his ankle to the metal pipe once again. “What… What are you doing?” he asked, panic evident in his voice.

“I’m horny.”

_ No. No no no. I’m not doing this. Fuck what Marshall said. I’m not laying down for this freak!  _ Colson began to struggle, grabbing onto the cuffs’ chain and tugging. “No, you’re not doing this to me.” he spat. As much as Colson had promised himself that he wasn’t going to argue or struggle, this was a line no one was allowed to cross.

Shady seemed unphased by the reaction, like he was expecting it. Before letting Colson struggle too much, he grabbed the blond’s wrists and pulled them away from the cuffs, pinning them above his head. Forcing Colson onto his back, Shady straddled his hips, using his free hand to grab Colson’s neck. “August sixteen, twenty eighteen, six fourteen p.m.” he said, leaning closer. “You were livestreaming on Instagram, where you mentioned you liked being choked.” he whispered, tightening his grip on Colson’s neck. 

Colson’s mind was racing as his oxygen supply was slowly cut off. How the fuck did he remember something that happened two years ago, and why the fuck did he know the exact date and time?! “S...stop it!” he choked out, “please!” he could feel his airways tighten, and his trachea aching. Despite his cries of protest, Colson couldn’t deny the tinge of pleasure he was getting from the ordeal. To have your esophagus tightened to the point of passing out, Colson loved it. He didn’t want to admit it, and was feeling disgusted by himself, but facts were facts. Colson moaned softly as Shady tightened his grip. 

“I knew you liked it. You fucking slut.”

Had Colson always liked being degraded? This had to have been new. Or maybe it was something that had always existed in Colson’s mind, it just hadn’t been unlocked yet. How humiliating, falling for every single one of Shady’s tricks. “Fuck…” he groaned, feeling his muscles relax against Shady’s touch. Somehow or another, he was starting to feel good, as he allowed his body to melt away in the feeling of Shady touching him. 

The blissful feeling increased when Shady began to kiss along Colson’s chest, lining his tattoos with his tongue. As he felt Colson relax, Shady let go of his wrists, using his now free hand to feel up the blond’s thigh. “You’re gonna be a good girl for daddy?”

Colson snapped back into reality, realizing just how absurd what he was doing with his kidnapper was. He grabbed onto Shady’s shoulders, twisting underneath the older man’s weight. “S-stop it!” he demanded, his voice coming out choked up. He tried to push the other off, however, he was unable to, and it was for two reasons. Not only was Shady much stronger than Colson, but deep down, Colson knew he wasn’t trying to the best of his ability. He knew that if he really tried, he could throw some pretty good punches. Marshall even said it himself, that Colson had good strength. So why was he only resisting Shady a little bit? Did he like it? No way, that had to be out of the question. Shady was some creep who was obsessed with Colson as an idol, knocked him out twice, and got weirdly sexual when Colson’s bladder betrayed him. 

Shady was not a good man. He was insane, unhinged, a monster. So then why in God’s name was Colson feeling good? It wasn’t just his dick betraying him either, because asides from growing hard, the same warm feeling was starting to bloom in Colson’s chest. The way Shady called him a good girl, made a bed for him, gave him brand new and expensive toiletries, it was all things a good boyfriend would do. 

But that was just it. Colson was starting to confuse the situation. As much as Shady seemed to care, it didn’t change the fact that he was here against his will. “Shady, get… get off me.” he croaked, grabbing onto Shady’s wrist, clawing at it. 

The same panic from before rushed through Colson’s blood because Shady wasn’t listening.

Unable to control the situation was the reason Colson was starting to freak out. He tried to push Shady off, but a part of him knew that he didn’t want the older man off. The way Shady seemed to know the location of every single nerve under Colson’s skin was driving him mad with ecstasy. As wrong as it felt, he couldn’t push away his arousal. Colson moaned as he felt Shady’s grip tighten around his throat. He scratched softly at the other’s wrists, before completely letting go, giving up the struggle. 

“That’s a good girl,” Shady said, pressing his weight against the growing tent in Colson’s underwear. “Good girls listen to their daddy, don’t they, Colson?” he asked, using his free hand to trace the tattoos around Colson’s ribs, pressing just enough to get a reaction out of the blond. “If you wanna be a good girl, you gotta let daddy rip down your panties and fuck you.” he continued, dragging his fingers to the hem of Colson’s underwear.

Colson moaned, noticeably louder this time. He felt like he was outside of his body, like he was watching this scene from a third person perspective, like he had no control over what his body was choosing to do. Colson would never nod and moan under his kidnapper’s touch, but here he was. “Yes daddy,” he gasped, bucking his hips up slightly. “I’m sorry for struggling, I just,” he was interrupted by a moan as he felt Shady move off of his hips. “I was just surprised.”

“I know baby girl.” Shady cooed, letting go of Colson’s throat. “That’s why I cuffed you. I knew you would try to run away.” he explained, as he began to tug at Colson’s briefs, pulling them down. “You have any idea how long I’ve wanted this for? To hold you down, pull your pretty little panties down, and fuck you until you’re passed out?”

_ How rapey of you.  _ Colson caught himself thinking sarcastically. It was no wonder he was unconsciously insulting Shady. He had lost complete control over his body, but his mind was still sane. He knew how wrong it was to like this, to be talked down to, to enjoy a madman’s touch. “Please daddy,” he whined, twisting his body to try and soothe his arousal. “Please be g-gentle with me.” he begged, watching Shady stick his hand under Colson’s thigh, pushing it up. 

Why was he even listening to this? What was the plan of action? Let Shady fuck him while he pretended to like it? And then what was he supposed to do? The questions were an endless loop of mockery and insanity in Colson’s mind as he gazed up at the ceiling. His mind started to race with possible escapes, but they kept getting cut short as he moaned at the kisses Shady left on his thighs and hips. He could hear Shady repeat the phrase  _ such a good girl for daddy  _ under his breath, but it felt like he was hearing it from a distance. Colson was snapped back into reality when he felt Shady’s fingers prodding his entrance. His breath hitched in his throat as he felt his muscles be forced open. 

It hit Colson like a moving truck that he forgot to tell Shady he was a virgin. Obviously, Colson had a great deal of experience with women, but with men? No, he only had the horror stories his friends would provide about how painful it was to lose your virginity to a man. “W-wait!” he yelped, grabbing onto Shady’s shoulders to push away. “Please wait, I’m not- it’ll hurt,” he couldn’t even formulate a proper sentence, and his face flushed when Shady laughed at him. 

“Are you a virgin?” when Colson nodded shamefully, Shady ran his fingers along Colson’s legs, in an attempt to help him relax. “Don’t worry, princess. Daddy’s gonna make you feel so good, you won’t even realize how it hurts.” he cooed, “who’s a good girl?”

“M-me.” Colson moaned, relaxing against Shady’s fingers. He let go of the other’s shoulders, running his fingers through the soft fuzz of the blanket he was laying on. “I’m a … good girl.” he whispered, tightening his grip on the blanket as he felt Shady’s fingers circle around his hole, before he started to push his index finger in. “Fuck!” he groaned. His friends were right, it hurt. It was really, really uncomfortable. Colson felt his body tighten up in pain, and as Shady added his middle finger, he cried out. “Hurts!”

Shady began to move his fingers in a scissoring motion, spreading Colson apart slowly. He continued to shush Colson softly, pressing kisses along his upper thigh. “You’re being such a good girl,” he encouraged. “Daddy loves watching you writhe in pain.” when he felt like Colson’s was stretched up enough, Shady removed his fingers. He didn’t want Colson to be too comfortable either, a little struggle was what Shady liked. “Usually, you would ask your lover if they’re ready but,” he yanked Colson’s leg over his shoulder. “I like it when you’re surprised, you struggle a lot more.”

_ I thought you don’t like the struggle.  _ Colson groaned as he felt Shady pull his fingers out.  _ Huh, that wasn’t so bad. Yeah, it hurt but it was kinda just… uncomfortable. I dunno what Rook bitches about so-  _ “FUCK!” Colson shouted, jolting up. “No! T-take it out!” he demanded, feeling his face grow hot with tears. “Please! Shady, n-no! I don’t wanna!”

“Yeah you do,” Shady argued, forcing his hold on Colson’s thighs. “You fucking love it.”

“No!” Colson whined, grabbing Shady by the shoulders again, this time really trying to put a stop to the action. The choking and kisses were fine but this? No way in hell this was supposed to feel good.  _ This  _ is what Rook was complaining about? He had every right to! Colson was nearly successful in shoving Shady off, until a jolt of sheer pleasure ran through his spine, hitting him so hard, the blond nearly clocked out. He completely let go, flopping back onto the blanket like a dead fish. “What … the fuck was-”

“Found it,” Shady growled, as he began to pick up the pace in the same angle.

Colson felt like he was on fire. His nerves felt like hot metal wires, while his heart was melting into his ribs. He had never felt such an immense amount of pleasure, even when sleeping with women. Sure, he would come, but this? This was different. Colson moaned, no, it wasn’t a moan. It was more like a cry, something he was used to hearing in those Japanese porn videos Pete watched. It wasn’t something he ever thought he would hear out of his own throat. “Fuck,” he gasped, “that felt so fucking… good.”

“Want daddy to hit that spot again?” Shady chuckled under his breath when Colson nodded. “Ask politely, princess.” he teased, stopping his movements to build the kind of tension he knew Colson couldn’t resist. 

_ He wants me to beg? I … I can’t throw out my pride again, last time was to save my life! This…  _ Colson moaned in protest.  _ Fuck! I need to feel that again. I’ll die if I don’t.  _ He decided, twisting his body, trying to feel the delicious friction again. “Please,” he started, feeling his cheeks grow red from shame. “Please daddy, please do that again, it felt so good!” he whined, gripping his blond locks in frustration. “I want it so badly, daddy!”

“Good girl,” Shady began to move again, making sure to hit the spot that made his princess see stars. “Cum for daddy.” he said, reaching and grasping Colson’s neck again. “Moan my name Colson.”

  
Colson began to cry out for Shady like a prayer. He felt his cock tighten before pulsing out ribbons of white, lining his stomach and chest, staining his tattoos. He could barely breathe, gasping for air as Shady let go. His lungs felt like they were on fire. “God…” he breathed out, feeling his muscles grow into jelly, melting into the blankets. “That felt so good. Thank… you.” 

“Don’t thank me princess,” Shady whispered, gripping onto Colson’s hips, holding him in place. “We’re not done yet.


	6. Diseased

“Wha…?” Colson felt like his mind was being electrocuted. He couldn’t even speak properly to express his confusion about what Shady meant. “What do you…”

Shady ignored Colson’s confused protests and continued to grind his dick into Colson. He removed his hands from the blond’s hips, using one to grab at Colson’s neck and the other to start touching Colson’s limp dick. Shady decided that a combination of suffocation and having his cock stimulated should undoubtedly get Colson hard again. 

Except Colson was whining loudly, demanding that Shady stops, and that he’s tired. “N-no more. I’m tired…” he begged, unable to hold back a moan that bubbled up in his throat because of the asphyxiation. “Please, Shady, I don’t wanna…” It was evident that Shady had no plans in stopping, and that he was going for a second round, whether Colson liked it or not.  _ Pass out… I need to pass out.  _ He thought, feeling Shady tighten the grip on his neck.  _ That’s it. If he goes tighter, I’ll surely pass out…  _ he forced his eyes closed, tears running down his cheeks. “T-tighter please.” he croaked, faking a moan. 

“That’s my good girl. Such a needy slut. Wanna choke so bad, don’t care if it’s on my cock or from my fingers. Don’t worry though, daddy will make sure to give you both.” he growled, tightening his fingers to the point his knuckles grew white. 

_ I can feel it… my vision’s blacking out. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die and no one’s gonna find me.  _ Colson started to whimper, crying softly.  _ I can’t see my friends, I wanna go home…  _ he hacked loudly when his saliva got stuck in his throat. Just as his vision was giving out, a rush of air filled Colson’s lungs, causing him to gasp and cough loudly, and the weight of Shady on top of him from before had vanished. Colson tilted his head up, trying to see where his kidnapper had gone. 

Shady was standing up, looking down at Colson. “Did you think I’m gonna let you pass out, baby girl?” he asked, tilting his head. “No, that’s not how it works. I’m gonna make sure you feel every last thing I do to you, and you are gonna like it.” he said, pulling his sweats up. “Clearly you’re not ready to have my cum dripping down your legs, so I’ll give it a rest.” he explained, turning on his heel. “Oh yeah, and while you were sleeping I brought you food.” Shady pointed at the tray on the floor. “Can’t uncuff you yet, but one day you can wander around all you want.” he concluded as he made his way for the steps. “Goodnight, princess.”

Once the door clicked shut, a wave of relief washed over Colson. “... he stopped.” he whispered, running his hand over his neck. “I wasn’t expecting him to… listen.” the blond looked at the tray sitting next to him. There were small slices of steak, mashed potatoes, and steamed vegetables. Next to the tray was a large glass of water. Colson’s stomach gurgled loudly, and he practically attacked the tray of food. Using his hands to pull the meat apart and wolfing it down.  _ So… so fucking good. I’ve never had food so good! Maybe it’s cause I’m hungry… Who cares?! All that matters is that I have food.  _

After eating like a wild animal, Colson’s body forced him to stop, as he was starting to feel sick, since half of the food had gone unchewed. He looked down at his sauce covered hands, feeling a rush of shame run through him. “...what am I doing?” he asked quietly. “I’m acting like… like a starved animal. It hasn’t even been a day since I ate but…” he looked around, looking for something to use to clean up. If he hadn’t been cuffed to the pipe, he could’ve gone to the bathroom and washed up. But that was currently out of the question. The next thing Colson could come up with was his shirt. “No! This shit’s Balenciaga!” he scolded loudly. “Hm… I could just let it dry… no, that’s gross.” he kept his gaze locked with his hands, and he swallowed, coming up with an idea. It was less than ideal, but better than ruining his three hundred dollar shirt or letting the sauce dry up on his hands. 

Hesitantly, Colson brought his fingers to his mouth, and began to suck away the drying sauce. It was actually really good, and its spice made Colson’s taste buds tingle.  _ How fucking humiliating… if Shady saw this… he would probably just make fun of me.  _ He could just picture the older man looking down at him with the same cold smile. Shady would probably pet Colson, running his hand through his blond locks, whispering filthy things to him.  _ Such a messy girl aren’t you, couldn’t hold back? It’s okay pretty baby, suck on your fingers a little more and daddy’ll clean you up. _

Colson felt his cheeks warm up, as he moaned around his fingers, a jolt of arousal shooting south.  _ God… here I go again. Getting hard when you’re not supposed to.  _ He took his free hand and grabbed onto his dick, touching it up. Starting from the tip and running his fingers along the veins. He closed his eyes, picturing… Colson’s eyes shot open as he froze in place.  _ Did I just… picture… Shady?! What’s wrong with me?!  _ This was wrong. Up until several hours ago, Colson was living his dream life as an idol, getting drunk and ten in the morning and not being called an alcoholic, having girls swoon over him, going on joyrides with his friends. Now, here he was, chained to a pipe, moaning and picturing his kidnapper feeling him up. 

The blond felt his cock twitch, and he couldn’t help a soft gasp that left his lips. Pulling his fingers out of his mouth, Colson gazed over his saliva covered fingers. “...Sh...Shady,” he moaned as he continued to touch himself, losing his sense of balance and dropping onto the blanket like a corpse. “C-come back… fuck me…” he whined, feeling a pit in his heart, ones he would get right after a breakup.  _ This feeling… am I… lonely?  _ He whimpered quietly as he continued to jerk off while moaning Shady’s name with great shame.

Upstairs, Marshall, who was getting ready for bed, was being poked mentally by Shady, who was continuously bragging about the things he had done to his “princess”. Marshall spit out his toothpaste, rinsing out his mouth, groaning. “Man, you’re aware I don’t care how much you made him cum right?!” he argued.  _ Aw, are you getting jealous Marshall? It’s okay, maybe I’m willing to share!  _ Marshall faked a gag, turning the bathroom lights off before making his way for bed. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?”  _ You love it.  _

Just before he could drift off, Shady startled him awake with a yell. “What! What, what the fuck?!” Marshall yelled, ready to defend himself in case of an intruder.  _ It’s Colson! I can feel him, calling my name. No, he’s not calling my name… Marshall! He’s moaning my name!!  _ Marshall slammed his head into his pillow, groaning into it. “I don’t give a shit! Let me sleep, asshole! Unlike you I have to go to work at six in the morning!”  _ Okay, okay fine! I’ll shut up.  _ And just like that, Shady’s presence fizzled out, leaving Marshall to finally catch a blink of sleep. 

Meanwhile, after having shamefully masturbated to his kidnapper’s filthy words, Colson actually ended up sleeping really, really peacefully. Snuggled up in a warm blanket, stomach full with food, his body limp and tired, it was all a perfect combination for a deep slumber. In fact, he didn’t wake up when Shady came downstairs to leave him his breakfast. 

_ How cute, isn’t he adorable when he’s sleeping?  _ Shady thought with a smile, placing the tray down, before quietly making his way back to the stairs. “Okay, take over, but lock the door.” he whispered.  _ What’s the point?  _ Marshall asked, bitter that he was late for work.  _ He’s already cuffed to the pipe, what difference does it make.  _ Initially, Shady argued, demanding that Marshall lock the door, but after a few minutes of quietly fighting, he caved in and gave up.  _ Fine, whatever.  _ And with that, Shady allowed Marshall to take over. 

Colson eventually woke up, hours after Marshall left for work. He groaned because of the light in his face. “Ashleigh... turn the fucking light off!” he whined. When nothing changed, he angrily shoved the blankets aside, sitting up. “Dude! I said… oh.” a wave of dread washed over him as he realized he was no longer at home. And that Ashleigh wasn’t around to yell at him to wake up. He could feel his heart rate speed up for a brief moment, before he was met with yet another tray. This time, however, there were two sunny side eggs, bacon, hashbrowns and a cup of coffee. Next to the food, was a note, which Colson took. 

_ Marshall has work today, so we won’t be home.  _

_ Make yourself busy princess. _

_ Love, daddy. _

Colson swallowed. “Alone…” his thoughts immediately went to escape. If he was going to be home alone, that meant escaping wasn’t impossible… right? It was worth a shot. After all, even if his attempts failed, Shady wasn’t around to knock him out like last time. Before he tried anything, though, Colson decided to eat. He needed all the energy he could get. The breakfast was delicious too. Colson had doubts that Shady made the food, he was more inclined to believe that Marshall was the cook in the house. As he gulped down his coffee, he tried to brainstorm a way out. There were only two obstacles. The cuffs and the lock on the door. If he was clever, he could probably find an escape through the window.  _ Wait… that window… does it even open?  _ It dawned on Colson that he didn’t actually know if the window was capable of opening. “I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it. For now… I need a way out of these handcuffs. 

Using the fork and knife from the tray was the obvious choice, but Colson had to be careful. If either of those utensils broke, there was no other way out. So, cautiously, he began to scrape at the small chain with the knife. He did that for several minutes, but it didn’t seem to be working. “Fuck!” Colson threw the knife in frustration, instead grabbing the fork. Sticking the prongs in between one of the cuff’s chain links. Twisting it to the best of his ability, there was a loud, metallic snap and a shard of metal hit Colson’s cheek, scraping a pretty big gash into it. “Ouch!” Colson let go of the fork, placing a hand onto his cheek, trying to soothe it. He looked down, and smiled wide in relief. The chain had snapped off, freeing him. “I… did it!” he quickly stood up, ignoring the sharp pain in his back and ass, stumbling back. “Fuck you chain!” he cheered, before calming himself down.

“Okay, okay,” he took a deep breath, trying to relax.  _ Window, right. The window.  _ He quickly approached the window, and began to tug on its corners. It was like the window was a painting or a decoration on the wall. While there seemed to be no actual lock or bolt holding it shut, it wouldn’t budge. “Shit!” he let go, taking a step back. “That’s no good. It’s impossible to open.” The only other option left for Colson was to try the door. It was a long shot, as it would be stupid for Shady to leave it unlocked. “Fuck it, I can probably just pick the lock.” he decided. 

Carefully, Colson made his way for the stairs, using the railing for support. Even though he had a lot of energy from his food, his body was still in a lot of pain. He had been through a great deal of physical torment. One step at a time, Colson finally made it to the door. Gripping the door handle, he closed his eyes, praying for it to be open. 

_ Click. _

Colson slowly opened his eyes.  _ It opened.  _ He thought. It felt like his heart was in his throat, clogging it, making it hard for him to breathe.  _ I’ve never seen outside this room.  _ With a deep breath, Colson opened the door. His suspicions about his kidnapper bringing him to a normal house were confirmed when he stepped onto the wooden floor.  _ Cold…  _ Colson felt like his head was spinning, his vision was beginning to blur.  _ Am I about to pass out?  _ He touched the outer corner of his eye.  _ No, it’s just tears. Wait… why am I crying?  _ Colson shook his head, forcing away anything that wasn’t about escaping. “First thing I’m gonna do when I get out of here is get a fat bottle of vodka.”

_ Marshall. Marshall. I know we said we’re busy but-  _ Marshall groaned, slamming his head against his desk, trying to get rid of Shady. “Dude I don’t want to hear about how you fucked him, I really, really don’t.” he grumbled, closing his eyes. Hearing the door click open, Marshall shot up, clearing his throat and glancing at the doorway. “Hey man.” 

Paul strolled in, placing a fresh cup of coffee onto Marshall’s desk. “Sucks writing lyrics when you’re tired, huh?” he asked, taking a seat adjacent to Marshall. “Maybe you should go home.”

Marshall wanted to grab Paul by the shoulders and tell him to shut the fuck up because now, Shady was pushing his buttons about missing his baby girl. “Nah, I’m…”  _ I kinda am tired.  _ And what a surprise, it was Shady’s fault. He had kept Marshall up all night talking about the things he was going to do to Colson. How he was going to spoil him rotten, fuck him until he had cum dripping out of every hole, toss him around like a rag doll, use him as his personal plaything. It was driving Marshall insane. “Would you mind if I went home?” He smiled a little when Paul shook his head. “Thanks man,” he said, standing up. 

“There, we’re going home.” Marshall scowled as he made his way to his car, in the empty parking lot.  _ Finally! I bet Colson’s just moaning for me right now.  _ Marshall cringed. “Look, you seriously need to cool it,” he said, unlocking his car doors and getting inside. “You’re aware he’s not some sex toy right? He’s still a person.” as he started the engine, Marshall realized he wasn’t speaking out of morals. “He’s scared, man. You snatched him off the streets. He’s really… scared. Try showing him some compassion.”  _ You think that’ll work?  _ “Hopefully.” Marshall sighed as he pulled out of the parking lot. 

Back at the house, Colson was looking for the front door. He had noted how the house was nice. It looked like something he would see in a magazine, houses that seemed impossible to buy. So, his kidnapper was filthy rich, what a surprise. Considering how he (Colson didn’t even know if he was thinking about Shady or Marshall) dressed made him look like a broke, 90’s rapper from Detroit. He definitely wasn’t expecting this to be the house Marshall lived in. “There it is.” Colson whispered, his eyes connecting to the front door. It was so close, yet it felt more and more like something bad was going to happen. “All I have to do is get through the front door. And I’ll go to the nearest house and ask for help.” Colson smiled, like he was feeling a deep sense of relief.  _ Ashleigh, Rook, Baze, Slim, AJ… I’m coming! I’m coming home!  _ He thought happily as he grabbed onto the door handle, opening it. As soon as he did, the whole world stopped moving, the ringing in his ears deafening.

Marshall was standing there, keys in hand. 


	7. Soul Of Steel

_ No… I was… so close…  _ Colson was frozen in place, at an angle, one foot out the door, the other still in the house. He could feel his eyes tear up, his heart rate speed up, his whole body engulfed in despair. The loud clanking of keys falling against stone made his breath hitch.

Marshall grabbed Colson by his shoulders, shaking him. “You need to hide. I can’t hold him back for much longer, so please, just run and find a place to hide.” Every fibre of Marshall wanted to step out of the way and let Colson run, let him go, set him free. But he knew what was at stake for him. If he messed with Shady’s plans, his death was inevitable. Shady would drag his body until it collapsed, rip through his flesh until his bleached skeleton was visible, press hot metal against his eyes, force him to swallow scissors. Shady was a demon, he had no empathy, and was creative with his revenge. 

He knew how to hurt people, and Marshall knew that he wouldn’t stop at his physical form. After all, if Marshall died, Shady would just manifest in another poor soul’s body. “C-colson, hide. I can’t let you go!” he stressed, his legs giving out from the immense amount of pressure Shady was putting onto his mind. As he watched Colson run back into the house, he felt like his bones were going to be powdered up. He gripped onto his chest, feeling his heart pulse hard, to the point it hurt. Marshall felt his throat tighten up as he could hear Shady screaming in his head. 

Demonic screams that he hadn’t heard in years. High pitched and viscous, enough to deafen a man, and Marshall was stuck with it in his head. “Guh… Gah!” he coughed, grasping at his throat. “Sh...shady, stop it!” he gagged. Shady was indistinct, unable to form proper sentences, all he could muster up were screams that belonged in hell. Once he felt like Colson had had enough time to hide, Marshall let go of the grasp he had, allowing Shady to take over. 

Colson took shelter in the attic. He had yanked down the string, racing up the stairs and pulling the door shut. He scrambled to the corner of the room in fear, pulling his legs up to his chest.  _ What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck!!  _ Colson began crying, holding his hand against his mouth to silence his sounds. He was hiding after all. Everytime he would close his eyes, Colson would see Marshall on the floor, twisting in pain like he was possessed. The pain must have been brutal. He couldn’t help but think that Marshall’s pain was his fault. If he had stayed put, Shady wouldn’t have hurt his host the way he did. 

After finally gaining control over Marshall’s body, Shady forced the broken carcass to stand, grabbing the door frame for support. “Where did he go?” he demanded. When he got no reply, Shady slammed the door shut, echoing a loud sound in the empty house. “Fuck!” he shouted, storming to the kitchen. He was determined to brutalize Colson to the point he couldn’t even speak an apology. He wanted to have Colson grab onto him and cry incoherently because his vocal cords were ripped to shreds. The gruesome details of what he wanted to do to Colson would be arousing, if Shady wasn’t so enraged. He couldn’t wrap his head around why Colson had tried to escape. 

Was he not enough? Did Colson not see what he was trying to build? Shady was trying to build a salvation for Colson. A paradise where he would be free of harm, protected from the disease-ridden world, a home where he could bloom into what he was destined to be: a princess, covered in jewelry and riches, draped on a comfortable and warm bed, spared from any sort of responsibility. Who wouldn’t want that? To have a lover who brought them anything they wanted, drop everything and answer their every beck and call? Shady wanted to buy all the beautiful, designer clothes for Colson, feed him the best food, make him feel like the princess he was, but there was one problem. Colson was constantly fighting it. He didn’t seem to understand Shady’s plan, and it was frustrating for him. 

A part of Shady thought it was because Colson had someone back home. Just thinking about it made his blood boil. To think of someone else’s filthy hands touching Colson, making him moan in a dark room, leaving hickeys on parts of his body that were free of ink. 

As he thought of such a disgusting scenario, Shady reached over the counter, grabbing a kitchen knife, gripping it tight, making his knuckles go white. He began to make his way around the house, dragging the blade against the wall, scraping in an ear piercing sound. He wanted Colson to be scared, wanted him to cry out of fear, to get shivers when realizing what he had done. Maybe then, he would listen. Thinking back to an Instagram story Colson uploaded a month before, Shady smiled devilishly, coming up with an idea that would surely scare Colson. “Hey Lolita, hey!” he sang, seeking his princess.

_ Lolita  _ was one of Colson’s favourite songs. The story he had uploaded was his Spotify playlist, and the song by Lana Del Rey was at the top. As he continued down the hallway, leading to Marshall’s bedroom, he sang another line from the song. “ No more skipping rope, skipping heart beats with the boys down-” he stopped abruptly when he heard a muffled sob.  Shady tilted his head up, looking at the string hanging from the trap door in the ceiling.  _ Clever girl.  _

But not clever enough, because Shady grabbed onto the string, jerking it down to reveal the stairs.  _ I wonder… are you gonna be able to hold it in this time? Or is it gonna be another bathroom incident?  _ He thought mockingly as he climbed the stairs, one at a time. When he reached the top, Colson’s face was priceless. Seeing the blade of a knife emerge first, followed by Shady’s eyes, cold with murderous rage. “Found you.”

Colson felt his breath stop mid-way, making him choke. He scrambled backwards, his legs and hands getting several splinters. The small chunks of wood digging into his skin, piercing it and causing it to ooze blood. The blood coming out of the splinters was leaving a faint trail in the darkness of the attic, but it was still visible. “P-please, let me explain,” he begged, knowing well that there was no explanation. Colson was trying to escape, plain and simple. “Shady please don’t kill me!” he cried, knowing how pathetic he must’ve looked. 

Shady watched Colson beg for his life in amusement, taking a step forward. “You don’t wanna die?” When Colson shook his head quickly, Shady used the knife to point at the small trap door. “Downstairs, now.” he ordered, watching the blond crawl towards it as quickly as his bleeding legs would let him. As soon as Colson reached the opening that led down, Shady stuck his leg out, kicking him forward.  _ Stupid little girl.  _ He peered down when he heard a loud thump, followed by a pained groan from Colson. Shady could see his twisted limbs as he tried to untangle his body and move. It was almost adorable. Shady climbed down the stairs, skipping a few by hopping off.

He grabbed Colson by his blond locks, ignoring his crying. He stopped dragging Colson’s struggling body when he reached the living room. Shady started by pulling the curtains shut, before glancing at Colson, who was whimpering in the middle of the room, too terrified to look up. From the fireplace, Shady retrieved a fire poker, turning to face the blond. “It’s a loveless world out there,” he started, his voice passionless and apathetic. “I just wish you would… see that!” Upon the final two words, Shady brought the fire poker down, striking it against Colson’s back. Completely taking Colson’s agonized cries unheard, Shady continued to beat him into a senseless, sobbing pulp. 

The next time he slowed down was when his own arm was aching. Shady dropped the poker, his loud pants drowning out the clank of metal as it hit the wooden floor. He stayed silent, watching for a reaction from Colson. However, all he got was the blond’s continuous sobbing, and shivering from pain. His back, legs, and sides were bleeding heavily, and swelling up already. If Shady had kept going for moments longer, death was inevitable. Colson’s tattoos were making it harder to see the blood, but there was no doubt they were there, because his shirt was soaked, coated in a dark pink tint, like a wine stain. 

The pain Colson’s body was being put through was tremendous, and it was brutalizing to have to take anymore. He begged for a stop to be put to the punishment, but it must have been too quiet to hear, because Shady just hummed, indicating for Colson to repeat what he had said. “Please…” he tried again, his body paralyzed from the pain. “No more… my body… can’t take so much.”

Shady gathered all the saliva in his mouth, spitting it out. The spit landed disgustingly in Colson’s hair. “Too. Fucking. Bad.”

It was only three words, but they had sealed Colson’s fate. That this torture wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, and that he was most likely going to die. At this rate, it was preferred by Colson to die, as the pain was too excruciating to handle anymore. He wanted to move, to fight or run, anything that would increase his chances at survival, but he just couldn’t. The beating had taken a toll on his body, and any sort of movement was painful, so he just lay there. He allowed Shady to grab him by the hair again, this time struggling significantly less, if at all. 

He stayed limp as Shady began to drag his body across the floor.  _ He’s gonna kill me. He’s gonna kill me. He’s gonna kill me.  _ He kept repeating in his head, as if it would make it easier to face reality. Everytime Colson closed his eyes from the pain, he would see a flash of what was surely in store for him. Walls splattered with blood, his intestines hanging out of his stomach, his legs sawed off. Brutal imagery that he couldn’t erase, and he was forced to see when he closed his eyes. The next time he broke away from the erratic static in his mind was when he heard a door click. When he opened his eyes, he was met with the basement door again.  _ This is it, he’s gonna torture me until I die.  _

Shady yanked open the door, gazing down the stairs. “Stupid, bratty girls are the ones I despise.” he said, jerking Colson’s body forward. He smiled sinfully when he heard Colson whimper. “Good girls don’t do this. They fucking listen!” he yelled as he shoved Colson’s body down the stairs, watching his body take a visibly painful tumble, before landing at the bottom, his long limbs becoming a mangled, bloody mess. He felt heat travel south in his own crotch, as he heard Colson crying from the immense pain. “Did that hurt, baby girl?”

When Colson didn’t reply, Shady began to take steps down, watching for any sort of movement from the blond. When he reached the bottom, he used his foot to move Colson onto his back, looking down at him, smiling wide when their eyes met. Shady kneeled down, running a comforting hand through Colson’s hand. “You’ve been a bad girl, haven’t you?” he hummed. “Daddy will forgive you if you beg for an apology.” he offered, bringing his hand from Colson’s hair down to his chest. From there, he began to outline his tattoos, running his fingers along the individual feathers of the crow on his chest. 

Colson couldn’t move, nor could he talk. His mouth was so dry that his tongue was swelling up.  _ I’m… barely conscious… that fall took too much of a toll on me.  _ He wanted to beg for help, for some sort of medical treatment, but all that would come out was a pained moan.  _ Come on, Colson! Two words. Help me, that’s it.  _ “...f-f…”  _ Don’t do it! Don’t swear at him you idiot!  _ His ego got the best of him, and he cursed out. “Fuck you!” he spat, drops of blood trickling from his lips. 

Shady’s eyes glazed over, clouded with hatred. “...” he stood up, his grip on the knife tightening. “You have any idea how badly I want to slice up your throat, so you can’t speak anymore?” he said, bringing his leg up, before bringing it down against Colson’s throat with all his might. But he didn’t pull away, keeping his grip on his throat, grinding his foot into Colson’s neck. “Beg for me to stop, Colson,” he challenged. “Say it. Daddy, please stop, you’re hurting your baby girl.”

Colson grabbed onto Shady’s ankle, scratching it, desperate for a release. “Kh...urgh…” he choked audibly, tears blurring his vision.  _ I have to beg, if he continues, I’ll surely die.  _ Realizing that begging verbally was out of the question, Colson let go of his grip and clasped his hands together. He began to beg physically, waving his clasped hands back and forth in front of Shady. 

Watching the pathetic attempt at begging, Shady chuckled darkly, slowly moving his foot off of Colson’s throat. While Colson coughed brutally, trying to regain his breathing, Shady used the sacred time to kneel back down, this time near Colson’s lower abdomen. “Too many tattoos.” he whispered, moving further down, stopping at the blond’s upper thighs. “Perfect, clean milky skin.” Shady used his free hand to firmly grip the thigh, while the blade in his other hand inched closer and closer. 

Realizing that Shady was about to mutilate his body further, Colson cried in protest, trying to pull away. “No! P-please,” he wailed, stopping when the pain from being choked forced him into a fit of coughs. “Sh-... Shady!”  _ He’s not listening…  _ Colson forced his ego out the way and did what had saved him several times already. “Daddy! Please stop!” he weeped, fearfully watching Shady. “Y-you’re hurting me, I’m sorry, Da-” his begs were interrupted by a shriek. “AH! N-no, stop it! Shady please!!”

Shady ignored him, continuing to carve the letter S into Colson’s thigh. Once he was done, he moved onto the next. It was agonizing, listening to Colson cry in pain, unable to stop. He had to learn a lesson, this was a punishment after all. It was only right for Colson to learn his lesson. After the letter Y was carved deep into Colson’s skin, the wound was gushing out enough blood to cover it, dripping down Colson’s leg and onto the carpet. Shady bent forward, sticking his tongue out. Holding the blond down firmly, he began to lick away the blood. 

The rustic, metallic taste was delectable, staining Shady’s lips and chin. After sucking away the blood, Shady looked up at Colson, who was still choking on his own sobs, gripping onto his upper thigh in pain. “Are you sorry?” he smiled when Colson nodded desperately. “Good girl, now lay down for daddy to fuck you.”  _ Shady, you need to stop.  _ “Shut the fuck up, you asshole, this is your fault you know!” he yelled, shooting up and grabbing onto the wall to stop himself from tripping on the stairs behind him. 

Colson was drowning in pain and confusion, watching Shady struggle with his own body.  _ Marshall must be trying to take over.  _ He thought hopefully.  _ Please, Marshall… I need you.  _ He looked at Shady, who was currently twisting at his torso, grabbing onto his head. Colson nearly lost hope, thinking he was going to get killed, until a ray of light spoke to him.

“You’re gonna be okay.” 

The blond looked down, feeling the same warmth from before return. He went to wipe at his eyes, but his blood soaked hand was stopped by Marshall’s.  _ Why is my heart beating so fast?  _ Colson looked up at Marshall, his eyes following the older man as he sat down onto his knees. “...”

Marshall brought Colson’s hand down, away from his face. “Sorry I’m late,” he smiled just a little bit when Colson said a small “it’s okay”. He looked behind Colson, at the bathroom door. “I’ll… go get you a first aid kit,” he announced, standing up. Before he left, Marshall unzipped his sweater and pulled it off, rolling it into a ball and giving it to Colson. “Apply pressure to his uh… handiwork.” he suggested. “I’ll be right back.”

Colson sat in silence, the only sounds he emitted were choke weeps and hisses of pain when he did what Marshall asked.  _ A sweater, over a hoodie? Does he not get hot? It’s cold out yeah but… what am I thinking?! Why is that important?!  _ Colson felt his cheeks grow hot as he pictured Marshall’s body underneath those baggy clothes. Was he toned? Did he have any tattoos? Was there a reason he always wore baggy, covering clothes? 

“Here,” Marshall announced his return as he took a seat onto the stained carpet, in front of Colson. “Let me clean that up.” he said, using an alcohol covered cotton ball to dab away any excess blood. He listened with guilt while Colson sniffled quietly. Once he had cleaned the wound and wrapped it in bandages, Marshall took a hold of Colson’s hand, looking at him. “Better?” he smiled when Colson nodded hastily.

Swallowing the fear, Marshall pulled his hand away from Colson’s and placed it onto his cheek. Without exchanging another word with the blond, Marshall inched closer, until their lips touched. 

  
  



	8. Shangri-La

Colson felt warm. For the first time since he got there, he was feeling a soft warmth in his chest and cheeks. He kissed Marshall back, knowing how much trouble he would get into if Shady saw it, but in that moment, he just didn’t care. When Marshall pulled away, Colson looked down in embarrassment.  _ It feels like I’m in fucking high school again…  _ he couldn’t remember ever being nervous about kissing someone, and the argument of it being because he was kissing a boy didn’t hold up either. Colson had definitely kissed men before. Whether it being because of a dare or because he was curious, he wasn’t shy about it either. 

But there was something about the way Marshall kissed him. It was soft, experienced and almost romantic. He knew what Colson wanted, and he didn’t fail on delivering. It gave Colson such an immense sense of comfort that it made him melt away against Marshall’s chest. “... thank you, for the bandages.”

Marshall smiled, shifting in his position before sliding his arm under Colson’s, pulling to hook the blond’s arm around his shoulder. “Think you can stand?” when Colson nodded, Marshall carefully pulled him up. “Lean on my shoulder, I’ll support your bad leg.” With his support, the two hastily moved from the bottom of the stairs to the pink bed, where he carefully put Colson down. 

The silence wasn’t awkward, nor was it tense. It was needed, the kind of silence both parties appreciated. Colson stared at his lap, his eyes gazing over the covered wound. He had only gotten a flash of what it was, and it was to fill him with dread.  _ Shady… I have his name engraved into my skin forever.  _ He didn’t want to belong to anyone. It went against Colson’s entire life motto. But even he had to admit that Shady hadn’t been the worst. He had fed him, let him shower, and even stopped when Colson wasn’t capable of continuing.

He knew that under normal circumstances, kidnappers just wouldn’t be so kind to their victim. And it made Colson wonder if he was even a victim. Maybe what Shady wanted was just someone to spoil. Not to mention how Marshall was a sweetheart too, and whenever he listened, he was rewarded generously. Maybe if he just played along with the games, he would actually be more comfortable here, and get less beatings. He felt a blush kiss his cheeks, as he looked up, forcing his gaze to meet Marshall’s. He smiled shyly, reaching out for him to sit down.Thankfully, he did.

Marshall took a seat next to him on the bed, leaning his back against the wall. They were quiet for a few minutes, before Marshall decided to make a move, again. He raised his arm and put it around Colson’s shoulder, pulling him close enough that Colson placed his head onto his shoulder. “... feeling better?”

Colson nodded, nuzzling his face into the crook of Marshall’s neck. He reached over and used his hands to hold onto Marshall’s free one. “Definitely.” he whispered, becoming more and more relaxed by the minute. 

“He hurt you really bad didn’t he?” Marshall asked, his voice laced with guilt. “I’m sorry I didn’t step in faster, he just… had too strong of a grip on my mind.” he explained. He began to run a hand through Colson’s blond locks, as he began to hum a tune. It was a sweet melody that had a strange sense of guilt built into it. It was a bittersweet tune, one that would make someone cry but it was unclear they were crying from happiness or sadness. 

“I like that tune.” he whispered, his voice drained of energy. “Is it a song?”

Marshall shook his head. “Nah, it’s just something that I came up with a few years ago. It’s like a… comfort tune, if you get me.” he sighed, recalling the memories. “Whenever something bad happened and I needed comfort, I would just-” he stopped when he heard soft snoring out of the blond. Marshall smiled like a lovestruck fool. “Goodnight, Colson.” he whispered, placing a kiss onto Colson’s head. 

The next time Colson woke up, he was met with a large box in front of him. No, there were two, one was just hidden behind it. Wait… there were actually five boxes, all wrapped up with pink ribbons. “... Marshall?” he asked groggily as he sat up. Colson went to move to see the boxes, but stopped when the pain in his back and lower legs forced him to. “Ow!” he winced, stopping in his tracks. Colson swallowed, and with pained movements, crawled towards the pile, removing the note on the box. 

_ Sorry for hurting you, Baby Girl. _

_ You’re still Daddy’s princess and deserve to be spoiled. _

_ Here’s a few gifts to make up for it.  _

_ ♡ Shady _

Colson felt his heart flutter at the note, and he folded it back up.  _ Gifts… for me?  _ He crawled further, sitting right in front of the boxes. Carefully, one by one, he began to open them. As soon as he opened the first one, Colson’s eyes widened. It was a hot pink Beats speaker, with a pair of wireless earbuds of the same colour.  _ This is like… five hundred dollars together!  _ Inside the box was also a CD, labeled  _ Colson’s playlist.  _ He carefully placed the box aside, scared of damaging it as he moved onto the next one. It wasn’t a box, but something soft packaged, most likely clothes. 

Opening it, Colson was met with a  _ My Melody  _ hoodie, and a pair of white, knee high socks, but knowing his height, they would probably only stretch to his calves. The next box was visibly a shoe box, and when Colson opened it, he saw a pair of silver,  _ Steve Madden  _ rhinestone heels.  _ Heels?  _ Colson wondered as he moved on. There were two boxes left and wanted to see what other luxuries were waiting for him. In the smaller box was a humiliating gift. Not to mention it was the only one that had a note inside it. Next to the silicone pink toy was a handwritten note that simply said “for when you're alone”. Colson quickly threw the box aside. “Creep…” he said in disgust, pulling the final box closer to him. It was the size of a gui- Colson’s eyes widened in excitement as he began to rip through the gift wrapping. “Holy shit…” he whispered. In the box was a pink guitar. 

Colson glanced around in disbelief at the sudden wave of gifts. “All of these… are for me?” he asked out loud, shouting in surprise when a loud “you betcha.” was heard from across the room. Colson looked up, and was met with Shady, standing still at the door. Colson’s heart began to beat faster and faster as the memories began to flood back. He couldn’t move. No, he didn’t  _ want  _ to move. As terrified as he was of Shady, he had to admit, the gifts were… flattering. “I’m sorry for… trying to run away.”  _ Why am I apologizing?  _ Colson shook away the thought. “A-and thank you for…” he gestured at the gifts. “...these.”

Shady stuffed his hands into his hoodie pockets, approaching Colson and sitting across from him. “Anything for you, princess.” he said. “You hungry?”

The blond shook his head. “C-can I know what time it is?”

“It’s around six in the afternoon.” Shady replied. “Want me to take a look at your back, princess?” he asked. 

Colson nodded, shifting in his position to expose his back. He was feeling nervous, letting Shady touch him, after all he was the one who had caused this. But when Shady started to kiss his back, whispering apologies, Colson relaxed, letting go of the tension in his back. He let out a soft sigh as he felt Shady kiss up to the nape of his neck. “It… doesn’t hurt as much unless you push on it.” he admitted.  _ I should apologize… he bought me so many gifts after I tried running away.  _ “Shady, I… I’m sorry.”

“What for, princess?”

“Trying to run away,” Colson explained, turning his neck at an angle that would allow Shady to kiss it easier. “I didn’t realize you’re doing this because you love me.” he continued, moaning quietly as Shady sucked a fresh hickey into his flesh. “I thought you just took me to hurt me. But now I realize… you love me.”

Shady pulled away, moving to Colson’s shoulder. “Now do you see that I just want you to be happy? In a paradise of pink, where you’re safe.” he whispered. He kissed Colson’s shoulder, along his tattoos, before pulling away. “I love you, and I’m sorry I had to punish you.”

_ He means it.  _ Colson felt like he was out of his mind again. Like he wasn’t himself. “I love you too.”

When Shady got the “I love you”, he felt like he was over the moon. He could feel a sense of happiness he had never felt in his entire time on Earth. He looped his arms around Colson’s waist, slowly turning him around. Once their gaze met, Shady grabbed onto the blond’s cheeks, pulling him into a kiss. Shady tilted his head to deepen the kiss, satisfyingly dragging a moan out of Colson. Shady pulled away, moving to his jawline. Making sure to mark his territory, he pulled away when Colson called out to him. “What’s wrong, princess?”

“Let’s…” Colson started, trailing off.  _ God… am I really about to ask him for this?  _ He swallowed. “Let’s fuck. Please,” he said, unaware of how vulnerable he sounded. “I need it…” his cheeks flushed when Shady hummed mockingly, asking what exactly he meant. 

“I want to hear you say it, princess. Tell daddy what you want.”

Colson whined in frustration.  _ I must sound like such a brat. Who cares? I’m horny and I need him.  _ “I… want you to… to wreck me, daddy.” he whined, “you hurt me so bad, I just wanna feel good.” he panted, grabbing onto Shady’s shoulders. “So please… fuck me daddy.” 

Shady could feel his pants grow tighter at Colson’s filthy mouth. “Want daddy to make the pain go away? Kiss your boo-boos better?” he smiled when Colson nodded desperately. “Want daddy to fuck you with his cock until that’s all you can feel?”

The blond moaned, shifting to sit onto Shady’s lap. He wrapped his arms around Shady’s neck, pulling him into a kiss. “Am… am I a bad girl?” he asked, tilting his head, showing off his puppy eyes. “For trying to run away from daddy?” 

“No, you’re not a bad girl. But you did make daddy upset.” Shady scolded, running his hands along Colson’s chest. “If you wanna be a good girl, you gotta trust daddy.” he explained. “Will you listen to daddy from now on?” when Colson nodded, Shady continued, kissing along his colourful chest. “You gotta let daddy show you how… no matter what’s going on, a good fuck from daddy will fix it.” he whispered. “Colson, will you be a good little girl and let daddy fuck you?”

Colson nodded, against his own consciousness. “Yes, daddy please,” he began to grind against Shady’s crotch, smiling when he heard him groan under his breath. “Please, let me make you feel good, I wanna apologize… for what I did.”

With a swift move, Shady moved Colson onto his back, ignoring his pained winces. “Let daddy take care of you, princess. I wanna show you how daddy’s cock will fix any sort of pain.” he was ready to show Colson what he was capable of doing. 

“D-daddy, can… can I see your… body?” Colson asked, making sure to be as cute as he could be for Shady. “I wanna touch you.” he realized that maybe that wasn’t something okay to say because Shady tensed up. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean to say something wrong.”

“You’re okay, princess.” Shady said, moving past what he had said, and continued to feel Colson up. “Come on, let daddy take your panties off,” he whispered, gently tugging down Colson’s underwear. “Daddy’s gonna buy you some real cute underwear tomorrow.” he promised, pushing Colson’s legs up, hooking them over his shoulders.

Colson wanted to say something, but his thoughts kept getting drowned out by his moans. His whines became louder when Shady began to prod his entrance with his cock. “Ah!” he cried out when he felt his body be filled up with Shady’s length. “Daddy!” he whimpered as he felt his cock twitch with arousal. “P-please make me feel good! I’m a good girl!”  _ Why am I… speaking like this? Before this I would find it humiliating to be in this position but now… I don’t want it to end!  _ As Shady picked up his pace, Colson’s words became slurred and his body began to lose its fire. “Daddy, I’m gonna cum!” he whined.

“Cum for daddy, baby girl.”

It was like Shady’s words were a charm. As soon as he said them, Colson’s lower abdomen tightened, and he came with a perverted moan, so high pitched that Colson questioned if it was even his voice. He involuntarily crossed his eyes, and opened his mouth to gasp for air, feeling his tongue roll out, saliva dripping off of it. Colson came crashing down, because as soon as he was finished, he felt his body liquify, and he fell back against the bed. He continued gasping, trying to calm his breathing.  _ Shady… was right. It’s like the pain from the beating disappeared.  _

Shady pulled out of Colson, unhooking his legs from his shoulders. He sat back, his back hitting the wall. “Who wrapped that up?” he asked, pointing at the covered wound. He already knew the answer, he just wanted to know if Colson trusted him enough to tell him. But he didn’t, and it was like the silence spat at Shady. He stood up, pulling his sweats up. “I’ll bring you dinner, okay princess?” When he saw Colson nod, Shady quickly made his way up the stairs, ready to yank Marshall out of his hiding spot to confront him. 

Colson’s mind, however, was completely vacant.  _ Have I ever felt so good after sex?  _ He couldn’t care less. After having laid there for nearly ten minutes, Colson’s thirst finally caught up to him, and he sat up.  _ No chains this time…  _ he noted as he slowly stood. His body was still in a lot of pain, and wasn’t fully healed from the beating. Colson limped towards the bathroom, clicking the door open. His mind was so tired out, that he had completely forgotten about the broken mirror. As a result, he walked right onto the glass. 

“AH!” he yelped, falling backwards, out onto the carpet. His feet had landed squarely in the middle of the vast sea of glass, impaling his skin. Colson’s gasps of pain turned into wails as the pain settled in. “Sh-shady! I- I hurt myself!” he weeped, gripping onto his ankles.  _ When did I become such a pussy? I fell down the roof of a car once, fucked my teeth up, why is this such a big deal?  _

Up the stairs, Shady had prepared some Korean meat to cook for Colson. He had the gas on his stove on, waiting for it to get the metal rings hot. “Marshall. We need to talk, and don’t bother hiding, I know you’re there.” he said, as he rolled his sleeves up. “We agreed that Colson’s mine. So why the fuck are you patching his injuries up?” he asked. When he got no reply, Shady growled under his breath. “Fine. Be a bitch. I’m the one he loves anyway.” While he was chopping up the vegetables, Shady was startled by Colson’s cries of pain. He dropped the knife in shock, whipping around and practically running to the basement door.

“Colson?!” he shouted, quickly unlocking the door and jerking it open. “Colson, answer me baby, what happened?!” he repeated as he raced down the stairs. When he reached the bottom, he was met with Colson laying on the floor crying, blood pooling around his feet. Shady couldn't remember having so much panic run through his nerves. He quickly dashed past Colson and into the bathroom. His (or rather, Marshall’s) sneakers caused several pieces of glass to crack into smaller fragments. Shady yanked the medicine cabinet open, grabbing the first aid kit. 

He dropped next to Colson, quickly getting to work. “Hey, princess, it’s gonna be okay!” he stressed, moving Colson to his back. “Fuck… Not enough light here… Colson, stay with me baby girl.” he said, bending down. “Grab my shoulders baby,” he ordered, and when Colson did as told, he hooked his arms under Colson’s knees, jerking him onto his back. With adrenaline pumping, Shady quickly carried Colson up the stairs.  _ So much for limiting him to the basement only.  _ “Shut up! Shut your fucking mouth or I’ll stick a damn live wire down your throat!” 

Shady finally made it the kitchen, unloading one hand to shove off anything on the kitchen table, before setting Colson onto it. “Okay, okay. Wait here baby girl, let daddy go get the first aid kit, and the pain’s gonna stop. I promise.” he said. 

Watching Shady leave through blurry tears, Colson wiped at his face.  _ It hurts so much… Pete once stepped on a glass… something. He couldn’t walk for three days. I got a lot of glass in me… Can I walk after this?  _ “Shady… it hurts!” he wailed, like a child, waiting for him to come back.


	9. Struggle Against Fate

When Shady came back with the first aid kit, Colson smiled in relief. “It hurts.” he simply said. “I’m sorry… for being a burden.”  _ Why am I apologizing?  _ Colson refused to let his rational and reasonable side of the brain think anymore. He focused on the pain, and how Shady was cleaning up the drying blood off. The pain of the cleaning was somehow worse than the injury itself, and it made Colson want to scream. Instead, he gripped onto the edges of the table, his knuckles turning white. He was holding back all the pain, not wanting to startle Shady. “It… hurts.” he whispered.

“I know baby girl. You hurt yourself pretty bad,” Shady hummed, retrieving a hemostat from the kit. “Just… try and hold on okay? Daddy’s gotta take the glass out.” he explained, bringing the medical pliers to the biggest shard of glass. As soon as he began pulling it out, he heard Colson groan in pain. Trying his best to ignore his crying, Shady continued to remove the pieces of glass. 

It was a constant void of pain, like it was never ending. He inhaled sharply, his teeth chattering from the pain.  _ God… why me?  _ Colson couldn’t bring himself to verbalize his self-pity, not wanting to distract Shady. Instead, he stayed quiet, internalizing his pain until Shady came to a brutal, slow stop. He watched in silence as Shady wrapped his wounds up. It was similar to the way Marshall did it, but Shady’s was less perfectionistic. Colson exhaled in relief, already feeling the pain soothe from its previous pulsing state. “Hah… thank you.” 

Shady used his knee as leverage to help him stand. Once he got up to Colson’s eye level, he felt a strange, unfamiliar sensation deep inside his heart. Granted it was Marshall’s heart physically, but in that moment, Shady felt the crack himself. Colson’s eyes were filled to the brim with tears, a drying streak staining his cheeks. He placed a gentle hand onto Colson’s cheek. “Such a good girl, come on, give daddy a kiss.”

Colson did as told. He placed a peck onto Shady’s lips, running his tongue along the other’s bottom lip. He kept the kiss going until Shady himself pulled away, while he was still hesitant on letting go. When they did break the kiss, Colson looked down for a brief moment, before looking up at Shady who had started speaking.

“I hate to ask this, princess but…” he trailed off. “Did you and Marshall… do anything after he patched up my mark?” Shady’s voice was still, and leveled, but still, the rage was visibly hidden behind the placid face. “Be a good girl and tell me.” The idea that Marshall was ballsy enough to not only bandage Colson, but to do anything else with him made his skin crawl. Not to mention that Marshall’s radio silence spoke volumes about his guilt. When several seconds passed without an answer, Shady pressed on. “Colson, I need to know.” when he didn’t reply, Shady sighed, heavy with disappointment and frustration. “Fine.” he said, turning his back to Colson and kneeling down. “Hop on, I’ll carry you to bed.”

_ Oh wow, I wasn’t expecting him to let it go.  _ Colson thought in relief as he slid onto Shady’s back. As he was being carried, the blond placed his head against Shady’s shoulder, feeling a wave of comfort wash over him.  _ I’m hungry…  _ his thoughts were interrupted when Shady dropped him onto the countertop, next to the stove. “... what’re you-” before he could finish, his wrist was tugged on by Shady, towards the stove, and held on top of it. “Wha...ow! Ouch! That hurts!” Colson cried, trying to yank his wrist free from his grip. “Please! Ah!” his yelps became louder as Shady brought his hand closer to the flame.

Shady’s face was completely stone cold, void of emotion. He stared at the dark shade of red Colson’s fingers were becoming. “Did you and Marshall do anything? Before you even think about lying, know that I can easily just look into Marshall’s head, and see what he saw.” he threatened, not breaking his gaze away from the stove. “So if you lie, this is a fraction of what I’m gonna do to you.”

Colson was sobbing now, using his free hand to try and pull Shady’s fingers away, but it was no use. It was like Shady’s fingers were plastered on with superglue, giving no hints of coming off unless desired. “Please Shady! It burns!” he realized that his begs weren’t getting him anywhere, as Shady was seemingly transfixed onto what was happening on the stove, and nothing was getting his attention. The smell of flesh slowly starting to sizzle was what made Colson finally break down. Through a mess of hiccups and sobs, he caved in. “We kissed! I’m sorry daddy, I really am! Please let me go, I can’t take it!”

As though the admission to the kiss was the spell breaker, Shady let go. However, he didn’t break away his gaze from the stove, as he was trying to process the confession. Part of his processing was figuring out what to do with Marshall. He finally looked away when Colson asked, if not begged, if he could go to the basement. Part of Shady knew that Colson wanted to get away from him, but his other half felt that he should at least fix the scarring tissue on the blond’s fingertips. “You can’t walk.”

“Eh…?” Colson’s eyes widened at the statement, before realizing what Shady meant. Looking down at his feet, Colson quieted down. Despite the vast amount of pain he was in, he just couldn’t work up the courage to ask Shady for help. “...”  _ I think I pissed him off to his limit this time…  _

Shady took a step away from the stove, his eyes on Colson. “I’ll go get toothpaste for your fingers. Wait here.” he announced, taking a step back. Turning on his heel, Shady quickly made his way to the stairs. He could hear Colson whimpering, but it sounded muffled. His rage at Marshall was too overpowering. After briskly climbing the stairs, and turning a corner, Shady shoved the bathroom door open. “Oh I hope you’re fucking happy Mr. Cold Shoulder, cause you have no fucking clue what I’m gonna do to you.” if Marshall was hiding out of cockiness before, he was surely hiding from fear now. “I’m gonna make sure you wake up, begging me for forgiveness.” he continued as he grabbed the tube of toothpaste. “I’m gonna make sure… you fucking bleed.” he growled as he rushed back to Colson. 

Shady knew exactly what he was going to do to put Marshall in his place, but for now, he had to focus on Colson. He had already been crippled by accident, and Shady didn’t want to be the cause of permanent damage. So, he quickly made his way down the stairs, where he saw Colson still sitting on the countertop. Shady approached him without a word, twisting open the tube of toothpaste. “I… have something to take care of.” he started, gently rubbing the charcoal paste onto the burn marks. Colson wasn’t replying, in fact, all he was doing was sniffling, an attempt to clear out his nose. “I’ll put you back into your room,” he continued. “Look on the bright side, you won’t be bored down there.” When all he got was silence, Shady sighed, stepping back.  _ Guess you’re giving me the cold shoulder too.  _ He thought. When he turned to leave, he was stopped by a sudden sound blurted from Colson. “Hm? What was that?”

“Ah… I mean… can you, um, can you help me get to the basement?” Colson stammered, shame and regret visible on his face. Like a child caught stealing, he was avoiding eye contact. He looked up when Shady chuckled. “...?” he felt like a weight was removed from his shoulders when Shady approached him, petting his hair. Colson sighed with content. “I’m sorry daddy.” he mumbled, smiling softly when Shady placed a kiss onto his forehead. “I… can’t walk, can you help me?”

Vulnerability. One of Shady’s favourite things to see. To have someone so hurt and incapable that they had to beg for help, it was simply… delicious. “Of course I’ll help you, baby girl.”

After carrying Colson to the basement and making sure he was comfortable in his bed, Shady placed a soft kiss onto Colson’s lips, running a hand through his blond locks. “I left some snacks by your bed if you get hungry,” he said. “Oh and some drinks. I left juice, liquor and water, whichever you want.” when Colson said thank you, Shady patted his head. “Such a cute girl.” he cooed, taking a step back. He made his way for the stairs, climbing them quietly. When he clicked the door shut, Shady ensured that it was locked, to avoid another incident. He had made the mistake of thinking Colson was no longer the feisty rockstar he was before, and he didn’t want to do it again. 

_ I see you’re still hiding, bitch boy.  _ Shady thought as he stopped by the stove briefly to turn it off.  _ Don’t hide for too long. You wouldn’t want this body to go waste, now would you?  _ Still, Marshall was nowhere to be heard. It didn’t matter though, because once Shady let go of his control, and Marshall didn’t take over, his body would essentially be braindead, and would have very little time to survive. Not to mention how the host’s ability to survive would shorten significantly after the injuries Shady was going to inflict onto him. 

As Shady was getting changed, he caught a glimpse of his body in the length view mirror that was across the room.  _ Wow, I guess Marshall’s body was a lot easier to mutate than the last one. She was impossible to scar.  _ He thought proudly, pulling on a grey hoodie, and putting on its matching sweatpants. Once he looked inconspicuous enough, Shady turned the light off and left the room. While going down the stairs, he stopped briefly, looking at the faint trail of blood leading down the hallway, towards the basement door. It was undoubtedly from the injuries Colson’s back was subjected to. 

Forcing his gaze away, Shady continued on his way to the garage door, making sure to take Marshall’s keys with him. Getting into the car, Shady turned the engine on, keeping his focus on what his plan was. “Simple, I just need to get to Lincoln Heights, and ditch the car.” he revised, backing the car out of the garage and into the street. On his drive, Shady went through different possibilities that could get him in trouble, but none of them prepared him for what the future held. 

When he finally arrived at the edge of Lincoln Heights, Shady parked the car and stepped out. With a deep breath, he cracked his knuckles, and got to work. After scoping out the area and jogging around to get a taste, Shady stopped at a nearby bar. He had always gotten Marshall into trouble in areas surrounding his house, and had never put enough effort to come all the way to a place like this one. But that was just it. This wasn’t just another argument they had had. Marshall had messed with something he  _ knew  _ was Shady’s. He pulled open the door and made his way inside, looking around for anyone that knew how to throw a punch. As he sat down at the bar, Shady caught wind of a conversation going on next to him. 

“... that’s all they said?”

“Yeah man, they said they can’t do anything. Can you believe it? I mean, shit if Ariana Grande went missing, the world would stop moving! But Kells? Nah, fuck him.” 

A jolt of excitement ran straight through him.  _ These must be Colson’s friends. How exciting!  _ He continued to listen, keeping his gaze on his drink, as if he was studying the ice cubes floating in it. 

“Seriously?”

“S-sorry Pete… didn’t mean to- wait, I thought you said you’re over her!”

“I know but come on man we still have a history together. Use someone like Billie Eilish or Rihanna next time.”

At that point, Shady figured out who one of the men was.  _ Pete Davidson… the comedian,I think he came by Marshall’s office at one point.  _ He recalled, taking a sip from his drink. However, tilting his head back caused his hood to slide off of his head, and before he could put it back on, his fate was sealed, because the said comedian called on him.

“Mathers? Hey man!” he approached the older man unsolicitedly. “I dunno if you remember me, but we talked for like… shit a few hours!” Pete laughed, tugging his significantly shorter friend forward. “This is Rook, he’s …” he trailed off, like he wanted to say something, but needed permission to do so. “... a drummer!”

_ Marshall you son of a bitch take over, I have no idea who this fucking guy is!  _ Shady demanded internally, while smiling politely. “Yeah, uh, nice to-”

Rook slapped Pete’s hand off of his shoulder, angrily yelling at him. “A drummer?! I’m not just a drummer, I’m Machine Gun Kelly’s drummer!! Why the fuck are you talking like Colson doesn’t exist?! Asshole, if you’re one of those people who’s sure he’s been wiped from history, you can go to hell!” Shady could see tears in his eyes, seconds away from falling. “You… and- Ashley, and Matthew*! None of you even care to hold onto hope that he’s out there but alive! It’s like Ashleigh and I are the only ones who give a fuck!” he snapped, shoving his way past Shady, and storming out the door. 

The tension was beyond thick, and the air was strained, like it would shatter like glass at any given moment. Shady used this opportunity to get more information out of the comedian. “So… you think he’s dead?” he quickly followed his question with his own statement. “I mean, he was pretty popular, but even if he wasn’t, y’know, authorities would look for him. Besides, I think his fans could be of help.”

“That’s the thing man!” Pete exclaimed. “When they investigated where he was last seen, literally all they found was his half used cigarette. It’s like he’s vanished.” he continued, his voice grim. “I know it looks like I don’t care, but seriously… if I could just hug him one time and tell him how much he means to me, that’s all I want.”

As heartbreaking as that statement was, Shady didn’t feel a thing, because Colson was his and no one else’s. “Yeah, shit sucks, not having closure.” he tried his best at a Marshall impression, and either he was doing really good, or Pete was just high as a kite. “Anyway kid, I’m gonna get outta here.” when they exchanged goodbyes, Shady practically ran out of the bar. Excitement was running through his veins when he was met with the impact his work had done. But as much he wanted to dwell on it, he had things to do. After all, he had come all the way here to teach Marshall a lesson. 

  
And that lesson came in the form of a gang called 18th Street Gang. A squad of ruthless and volatile goons, who showed no empathy. And all Shady had to do was piss them off and pull away seconds from when fists connected to the jaw. When Shady did stumble into their territory, he made sure to pick and choose the baddest and meanest looking men he could find.  _ This is for fucking kissing MY princess _


	10. Decay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *for reference, here is a clip that inspired the way Shady fixes Marshall's injuries.*  
> https://youtu.be/vi9m0JRo71I?t=23

Shit talking thugs was easy, all Shady had to do was insult their looks and call their tattoos gay. What wasn’t easy, was getting them to just beat him up, and not shoot him on sight. So, he had to be careful. As much as Shady wanted Marshall to bleed out on the sidewalk for kissing Colson, he knew that Colson’s trust had to be built from scratch if a new face showed up. Shady carefully approached a group of five men, making sure he looked as sketchy as possible. When he did, he was met with one of the men spitting at him. As the spit landed on his face, Shady continued mocking them, asking them if that was all they got. Of course, they showed him what they could do, but before they could grab him by the collar, Shady let go of his control over the body.  _ All you.  _

When Marshall came to, he was greeted by a harsh kick to the ribs. They had started by tossing him onto the concrete, throwing unforgiving punches and kicks at him. Marshall couldn’t remember ever having gone through such an immense pain, and it was worsened when he heard a loud crack.  _ My rib…!  _ He tried to fight back, but he couldn’t get too far, as every time he moved, his collapsed ribs would pierce his lungs, drawing blood that leaked into the rest of his intestines. He hacked loudly, coughing up drops of blood that landed on the floor in a random pattern. Marshall couldn’t bring out the words to verbalize his pain, or even cry out. He was reduced to a bruising pulp, bleeding onto the sidewalk like an animal going through unspeakable torture. 

And they just wouldn’t stop. For a mere moment, Marshall can feel his body grow limp, tired from fighting and ready to give in, his vision starting to black out with specks of backs dotting his view.  _ I’m gonna… die…!  _ But it was in that moment, in his muffled ears, he heard the words,  _ get away before I call the cops.  _ Just before he could pass out, Marshall saw a familiar figure run towards him through a blurry vision. 

Back at Marshall’s house, Colson was busily trying on his new shoes. Not only was it excruciatingly painful, but overall, it was not going well. Considering Colson never wore heels in his life. Balancing alone was difficult, but doing so on carpet, with his injuries, he inevitably fell. “Ouch…!” he hissed as he fell to the floor face first, his nose hitting the tough carpet. Colson sat up, holding onto his face, trying to soothe it.  _ Ow… carpet burn…  _ he rubbed on his nose, sniffling to clear it up. “Okay, I…” he trailed off when his mind began racing.  _ Falling like that… When did it happen? It felt so familiar…  _ Colson slowly started to unclip the shoes, pulling them off.  _ Like deja vu… after that… _ he unconsciously looked behind him.  _ The pipe…  _ His heart rate began to race. “... who…” he stood up slowly, approaching the pipe where the broken handcuffs still resided. 

_ Escape… I remember, I nearly made it. Why did I want to…  _ it was like his mind was struggling to answer questions he knew the answers to. He moved to his knees, his breathing becoming more and more rapid as paranoid thoughts filled his brain. Colson grabbed onto his head, gripping his blond locks.  _ Spinning… my head is spinning… it hurts, I can’t stop it. It feels like my… head is growing dark.  _ Colson slid from his knees onto his stomach, his elbows holding him up. “Where am I…” he whispered, his voice shaking with panic. “Why does it hurt? Was I… injured?” he looked back at his feet, the bandages that were dyed red made a rush of panic run through him. “Eh…? Ah!” Colson was full on terrified now, wondering why the fuck he wasn’t trying to escape. “What the… why me…”

Colson forced himself up, despite the pulsing headache. He began to crawl to the end of the room, where the stairs laid, silently emitting an intimidating invitation to climb them. Colson took it, and began to slowly drag his corpse of a body upwards, towards the door. When he reached the top, it was like an impeccable force had taken over him. His body was moving on its own, bringing his hand to the doorknob, turning it.  _ Huh…?  _ He tried again, and again, and again. Everytime, to no avail. The door was locked. Colson began to tug on it harshly, like it would open if the tenant behind it was desperate enough. “Hnng! Why the fuck won’t it open, God help me!” he strained. The strain, causing his palms to sweat. The moisture caused his hands to slip off of the door knob, his grip letting go. “Ah!” With a surprised cry, Colson fell down the stairs, feeling a sharp edge hit his neck, his Adam’s apple taking the contact. The pain was sharp, cruel and damaging. When he reached the bottom, he laid there, a mangled up pile of limbs, his body unable to move. All he could feel was the pain as he shut his eyes tightly.  _ Hurts… hurts so much.  _

Marshall awoke with a pulsating pain, not just in his head, but in his whole body.  _ Fuck!  _ He twisted his torso, forcing his eyes to open. He was in an unfamiliar room, the smell of weed was so strong, it was creating an overpowering stench in the room. Marshall tried to sit up, but he could only move his neck without an acute pain going through him, from his collarbones to his hips.  _ Fuck…! My ribs… are in a really bad shape.  _ He could move his legs and neck, so he used his chance to look around. 

The room he was in looked as thought it was about to collapse in on itself, like it had been here for decades, forgotten. There was a broken window, cheap, yellowing blinds hanging halfway down. Marshall realized he was laying on a couch. A beaten up and worn one, but a couch. The floor was filthy, the carpet darkening because of gunk and dust. However, despite its abominable state, the room was surprisingly neat. There was a TV that was old but it was clearly dusted recently, a shelf above it with comic book action figures. They were in spotless shape, whoever lived here held them near and dear to their heart. There was an opening, a hallway leading away, but it wasn’t possible to see from Marshall’s perspective. There was a soft thud in the near distance, the sound of a fridge closing. 

Out of the corner that led into the hallway, came out the same figure Marshall had seen in the street. He had a tray full of food in his hands. Several sandwiches, chocolate chip cookies, a variety of drinks, it was all there. “Oh hey, you’re awake!” he said, his mouth full. “Dude, you took such a beating, I kinda thought I’d call a coroner on you.” he approached Marshall, taking a seat next to him. “I called a paramedic and she patched you up, and she was like ‘oh, he’ll be fine, just put some ice on him!’ but anyway,” he took a bit from his sandwich. “You hungry?”

Marshall could feel his head spinning. “...” he looked the kid up and down, before remembering his name. “P… peter… right?” 

“Pete! But yeah, close.” he smiled. “Yeah, I remembered you from the interview. I meant to ask, are you feeling okay?” Pete seemed genuinely concerned. “I mean, I know that bar has good liquor, but I remember you told me you don’t drink. Not to mention, you looked… off man. Like… like really off.”

It was like a jolt of anger healed Marshall of his headache when he realized where Shady had taken him. “Um… I had some… stuff to take care of.” he lied. “Listen,” he started, nervous to ask such a question. “Your friend, the one that went missing,” he waited to see if a shift in mood would appear in Pete’s visage, and continued when the younger just nodded. “Any… update on what happened?” he frowned when Pete shook his head. 

“I wish… If I find who took him man… I dunno what I’m gonna do,” Pete said, picking at his fingernails, visibly getting upset. “In fact, I don’t even care who took him!” he jeered, looking down. “I just want my friend back. The place he shares with his friends… I went there yesterday, and… it’s so wrong without him. So quiet, so ghostly.”

Marshall felt his heart crack at Pete’s statement. Shady’s selfishness was causing so much despair, and it was all happening because his greed and lust for the idol couldn’t be limited to just going to his concerts and trying to be a friend. Marshall recalled even suggesting to Shady that he would negotiate with Colson to have him signed with Paul’s company. That way, Colson would constantly be there around him, but Shady was simply too hungry for the rockstar. “I’m sorry,” he said, knowing it was more than an emphatic statement. He meant it because he  _ knew  _ where Colson was, and it was becoming increasingly tempting to just tell Pete. “Y’know, I was thinking of signing him with the company but… guess I was too late.”

“Don’t say that,” Pete said, shifting to a more comfortable position. “I’m sure Colson is out there. I just know he is. I dunno why Rook keeps saying I think he’s dead.” he complained. “Colson’s a fighter. No one can break his spirit.”

_ You don’t get it!  _ Marshall wanted to scream.  _ Shady isn’t just someone. Even the strongest of wills succumb to his hell. It’s inescapable, you’re at a dead end. Colson’s not coming back!  _ Instead, he sighed, looking up at the ceiling, his eyes following the fan that was spinning. “Fans must be losing their minds.”

Pete laughed. It was dry and forced, nothing like what he would do on his stand up shows. “Oh yeah, Twitter is blowing up.” he explained. “I wish Colson would see it, how much people are willing to put on the line, how much everyone misses him.” he poked a straw into the Korean banana milk he had. “I lost track of the hours I spent crying and praying for his safety, and I’m atheist!”

The statement cut into Marshall like a sharpened butcher knife. He sighed, balling his fists, his nails digging crescent lines into his palms. “Pete… I gotta tell you something.”

Pete was looking directly at him, and it made Marshall fill with dread.  _ Admitting to him… will clear my conscience but… can I get out of the charges?  _ That was what was making him hesitate. At best, he would be put into a psychiatric institution. “I…” he couldn’t get it out. It was a simple statement.  _ I know where Colson is. I know where Colson is. I know-  _ “I wanted to sign you in but it had to go through a couple of other people first.”  _ what the fuck?!  _

“Oh,” Pete seemed to be surprised by the statement. “Um… okay,” he awkwardly said. The air was growing more and more tense as it became visible that Marshall was lying. Pete let out a long huff. “I gotta be honest with you, I don’t really… it’s not my top priority right now, getting a job. Right now, I’m focused on finding my friend.”

_ I know where he is God dammit!!  _ Marshall nodded, chewing on his lip. “Think I can get a ride? I um… got some shit to do.” he explained. When Pete nodded, he felt relieved.  _ I just wanna get home, can’t stand looking at him. He’s so worried and tortured but he doesn’t care… such a cruel demon, why the fuck couldn’t he settle for someone who has no ties to me?!  _ Marshall continued to scold Shady as Pete began to help him up. 

“Oop, careful, you busted a rib or two.” Pete reminded, carefully helping Marshall up, “Use me as your support, okay?” when the older man nodded, he started to take one step at a time, slowly but surely making his way to the door. 

Turns out, Pete was living in an apartment, and the elevator that was staring at them from across the hall seemed to belong in a horror movie. Its corners were a rusted orange, and it seemed like someone was riding it, because it emitted a loud ding. The doors opened with the piercing sound of old metals rubbing against each other. Pete slowly helped Marshall to the said elevator of death, and never had Marshall wanted to take the stairs, but he had no choice. Walking for too long was impossible for him. When the pair made it to the elevator, a man with thick muscles stepped out, followed by a perky, almost fictionally proportioned blonde. It was obvious to anyone that she was a prostitute, and it spoke to the kind of neighborhood people like Pete were stuck in. 

The elevator ride was silent, just the sound of soft, ragged breathing that Marshall couldn’t keep to himself. It felt like at any moment, the cable holding the elevator was going to snap, and they would fall to their deaths. Surprisingly, they made it out alive! The same, miserable ding was heard before the doors slid open, and Pete helped Marshall out. They were now in a parking lot. 

It took a minute or two of pressing the alarm button on his car key to find the vehicle, but they did so nonetheless. “Alright,” Pete said as he helped lower Marshall into the passenger seat. “I um… don’t know how you’re gonna wear a seatbelt when your… ah!” he happily exclaimed, reaching across from Marshall and retrieving a pillow. It was old, stained and even had a few burn marks on it. “Here!” he placed the pillow onto Marshall’s stomach, before fastening the seat belt. “That should help.”

And it did, surprisingly. The aching he was expecting was definitely there, but significantly less perceptible. “Thanks, kid.” he said.  _ Fucking hell kid… cleaning up here won’t kill you.  _ He thought to himself. Pete’s car was in an abhorrent condition, cigarette butts, old lighters and even ziploc bags of weed littered its floors. Soda stains and cigarette burns were dotting the seats in an aimless pattern, boxes of takeout food laid around, long forgotten. Marshall’s observations were cut short when the car’s engine roared to life.  _ Glock In My Lap  _ by 21 Savage could be heard faintly through the speakers. 

“Any requests? Also, I need your address if that’s okay.”

Marshall shook his head. “All you. I just wanna get home. I live in Trousdale, it’s um… about two miles off the 48 Highway. You get there, I’ll direct you.” he said, not wanting to keep the conversation going. Talking itself was becoming increasingly difficult because of the pain in his chest. So, he kept his eyes on the road.  _ Shady, I know you can hear me so just… fucking hear me out. I shouldn’t have kissed Colson, alright? I get it, he’s your princess, he’s your angel, your baby girl, whatever. But he needed the comfort. You need to understand that when you beat him up like that, he’s in a lot of pain, both physically and emotionally. You’re confusing him. I’m sorry for taking a chance at something that was yours. But please… fix my ribs. I can’t breathe, and it’s getting worse.  _ Shady wasn’t responding, so Marshall sighed quietly, pulling away from the one-sided conversation. 

When Pete dropped him off, Marshall promised him a favour, any favour he needed, for his troubles. He was expecting Pete to ask him to pull some strings and get him a job, or maybe for some money. However, the favour Pete asked for was something that made him want to strangle Shady. “Just… if you hear anything about Colson, please tell me.”

_ I can’t do that…  _ “Of course, I’ll be on the lookout,” he lied, getting out of the car with difficulty. “Thanks again,” he said, and smiled unnoticeably when Pete waved at him, driving off. When he left, Marshall quickly made his way to his front door, inputting the code. When he heard it unlock, he strolled inside, closing the door and leaning against it. Marshall let out the biggest exhale he could manage, regardless of the pain it caused his ribs to do… Marshall looked down at his stomach, pulling his hoodie up. Disgusted at the mutilation Shady had caused, Marshall forced his eyes past it, looking at where the pain was previously crippling him. 

  
Instead of the purple and blue bruises he was expecting, Marshall saw specks and markings in black, like a watercolor pattern. Shady had fixed him. Those black marks appeared in the place of injuries whenever Shady used his abilites to pull his broken bones tissue together. He let out a sigh, running his hand along it. “Thanks… y-you wanna take over?”  _ I wanna see Colson.  _ Marshall nodded, closing his eyes and letting go.


	11. Corrupt

When Shady took over Marshall’s body, he was quick to make his way to the basement door. Past the kitchen, through the living room and down the hall, his princess waited. Shady could just melt at the thought of having Colson crawl forward, grab onto him and beg for attention. He had to have missed him, of course. It couldn’t be easy on Colson spending so much time alone. Picturing the blond climb onto his lap, whine for a kiss, it was all Shady wanted. “Colson!” he cooed. “Daddy’s home!” He unlocked the door, pulling it open. His blood ran cold at the sight in front of him. The stairs were trailed with drying blood, the doorknob and a small area around it scratched up.  _ Colson was trying to leave.  _ However, further down the stairs, was a sight so horrific it made Shady gasp, his skin paling at the scene. 

Colson was laying on the floor, gripping his hair. His sight was transfixed onto the floor, his mouth moving in a repeated pattern, like he was chanting something. Tears and snot were drying on what could be seen from his face, and he was rocking back and forth. 

Shady had never ran down a flight of stairs so fast, and he nearly fell on his way down, but when he did, he dropped to his knees. “Colson! Colson baby what happened?!” he bleated, grabbing onto Colson by his back, trying to pull him up. Surprisingly, he couldn’t. Despite his superhuman strength, and the fact that he had easily overpowered Colson several times, Shady couldn’t pull him away from the floor. Panic was flooding his system at an alarming rate, and he leaned in, trying to make out what Colson was chanting to himself.

_ … April 22nd, 1990… Cleveland, Ohio… Colson Baker… April 22nd, 1990… Cleveland, Ohio… Colson Baker…  _

Shady continued shaking him, trying to get him to snap out of the trance he seemed to be stuck in. It was impossible moving him, Colson was like a decoration, glued to the carpet, there to stay. “This is bad… this is really bad.” Shady got up, moving to Colson’s other side. He sat down again, placing a hand onto the blond’s head, leaning close. “Colson, look at me.”

_ … Cleveland, Ohio… Colson Baker…  _

“It’s no use…” Shady surrendered, running a hand through his hair. “... son of a bitch, I have to do something.” he stood up, quickly making his way up the stairs, careful of the blood that had nearly made him fall earlier.  _ What’s wrong with him?  _ Shady could hear Marshall in the back of his head. “I… I don’t know.” he admitted. When he arrived in the kitchen, Shady pulled open one of the cabinet doors, grabbing a glass. He filled it with water, and stepped back. He then opened the cabinet that held any and all sorts of medication in it, and he reached into the back. Several pill bottles fell out because of the action, clattering loudly as they fell. Shady’s fingers brushed against a small ziploc bag, and he grasped it, yanking it out.  _ Rohypnol?! You have roofie drugs in my house?! _

Shady ignored him, taking out a pill from the baggy and tossing it into the glass of water. As the pill dissolved, Shady reached across the counter, grabbing a small knife, usually meant for cutting fruits. He gathered his things and hurried back to the basement. It was there that he was met with the horrific sight of Colson looking almost possessed. Shady quickly made his way down the stairs and sat down, much like his earlier position. 

It was a horrible sight, and Shady didn’t want to see Colson like this, so he got to work as quickly as his body would allow him. He gripped the knife tightly in his hand.  _ Colson… it’s for your own good.  _ He brought the blade up, just inches away from the blond’s neck, and he pressed it down, connecting the blade to the pale, untouched skin. Beads of blood began to bloom out of the cut, they looked like red pearls. Pure, lonely, delicious. 

“Ah!” Colson finally reacted to the pain, his head shooting up from where it was, touching the carpet. His weeps of pain became soft moans of pleasure when he felt Shady affix his tongue to his neck, licking away the blood and sucking more out. “Hah… Sh-shady…” he moaned, feeling his body leave its tense and locked state.  _ What was I doing?  _ Colson swallowed, which sent him into a coughing fit, as his throat had gone hours without water. 

Knowing this was bound to happen, Shady grabbed the glass of water that was sitting on the second last step. “Here, baby girl… drink up,” he softly said, taking a hold of Colson’s chin and gently placing the glass to his lips, tilting his head back. He watched as Colson gulped it down, not stopping for a breath. “You were thirsty weren’t you?” he whispered, pulling the empty glass away. “You scared daddy.” he said, patting Colson on the head. 

Colson looked down in shame. “I’m sorry, I … don’t know what happened.” he admitted. “I got scared and… couldn’t think right… I…” he started to slur, looking up at Shady. “Did… did you … give me something?”

Shady nodded, as there was no need to lie at that point. “Just something to help you relax, baby girl.” he explained, sneaking his arm under Colson’s, and with heavy steps, dragging him to his bed. “Such a good girl.” he said as he sat the blond down. “Are you upset that you can’t walk?” he smiled when Colson shook his head. 

“I don’t need to. Not like I can go anywhere.” his speech was getting worse and worse, and it was amusing to see Colson try to keep himself together. He eventually lost the ability to hold himself up, and collapsed against Shady. “Hng… I feel…” 

“What’s wrong, princess?” Shady asked, knowing fully well what the drug was doing to his body. “Do you want something?” he hummed when Colson nodded. “What do you want from daddy, princess? Use your words.”

Colson whined, unable to properly express what he wanted. “... want… daddy’s cock…” he whimpered, feeling his own dick twitch. “Please… f… fuck me.” he begged. He forced his body to move closer to Shady. “Daddy’s cock… inside me, pounding into my ass…” murmured. 

Shady smirked, using his hand to tug down Colson’s underwear, just enough to have his cock peek out. He ran a finger across the tip, spreading the precum that was starting to drip. “Want daddy to hold you down and make you see stars, baby girl?”

Colson’s heavy eyes widened slightly as he smiled. “Shooting stars…?” 

_ So cute…  _ Shady smiled, using his free hand to run it through the fluffy blond locks. “Mhm,” he hummed, “of course baby, whatever wish you make on daddy’s cock will come true.”

The blond’s drunk smile widened as he melted into Shady’s touch.  _ A wish… What should I wish for?  _ He hummed happily as Shady touched him. “I wish…”  _ to go home, to my friends and old life!  _ “I wish I could always wake up…”  _ in my house, not here!!  _ “With daddy’s cock inside me…” he slurred, moaning softly under his breath. “Please, I can’t handle being alone anymore.” he wasn’t lying anymore. Being left alone was truly driving him insane, and maybe that was what Shady wanted. Maybe he wanted Colson to be so desperate for human contact that he would gladly accept Shady’s with open arms. And the worst part of it all was that it was working. Colson was starting to miss Shady’s company, aching for his voice, his touch, his presence. 

Shady’s attempts at chipping away Colson’s sanity was working effortlessly. Despite the initial struggle and escape incident, the blond was succumbing to his paradise. Slowly, Colson was starting to accept his new fate, a new life in a salvation where he was the center of the universe, because his universe was now this. Limited to one room, showered with attention, treated like royalty. He was starting to ease into the utopia Shady had built for him, available for Shady to take at any time, because he had no other way of thanking him. 

Saving Colson from a disease-ridden world was all Shady wanted. Since he watched a ridiculous video of him and his friends stuck in an elevator in Russia, he knew his calling in life was to give Colson everything. To pull him out of the illusion of happiness he had created. Colson wasn’t meant for the life he had chosen, it was too dangerous for him. To be driving recklessly, diving off of stages, walking into crowds of people trying to grab him, Shady knew it was wrong. To watch someone so fragile, so delicate and breakable do such things, he felt wrong to let it continue. Colson was made of glass, and he had to be treated with care no human could provide. 

Shady knew what his purpose was. He knew, and watching it come together was so satisfying. Colson was starting to understand. “I’ll be here all night, princess.”

Shady gently moved Colson onto his stomach, tugging his underwear off entirely. He continued to whisper compliments as he kissed along Colson’s tattooed back. The wounds from the previous beating were starting to swell, redden and start making themselves known. Even under all the ink, they were brutally visible, impossible to miss. “Such a pretty little girl for me,” he comforted, running his fingers along the scarring tissue. 

Colson could feel how sensitive his back was, as just from small touches, it felt like his skin was on fire. He wanted to cry, but he also wanted to keep Shady happy, so he bit his tongue as Shady touched his back. “... please, daddy,” he choked, tightening his grip on the sheets to help him ignore the pain. “Fuck me, I need you.” A part of Colson wanted to see how Shady would react if he acted slutty, but at the same time, the fear of disappointing him was even greater. He gave in and decided to throw caution to the wind, before deciding to completely change his attitude. “I’m lonely.. Need daddy’s big… thick cock to fill me up.” he let out a quiet moan, leaning back and looking over his shoulder. “Please, daddy. Fuck me until your cum is dripping down my legs.”

It was amusing to say the least, watching Colson struggle with what he wanted. It brought light to Shady’s days to see his princess unable to choose. “Are you playing the whore, Colson?” he chuckled when the blond nodded in frustration. “You wanna be daddy’s slut?” he teased, running a hand along Colson’s lower back, stopping at his ass. “You should tattoo my name right…” he ghosted a touch along his skin, stopping at a random spot. “Here!” with that, Shady harshly brought his hand down, the impact emitting a loud smack, followed by a surprised cry from Colson. “You like that?” he didn’t wait for an answer, but continued to spank Colson, until his skin was glowing red. “If you wanna be a slut, you don’t get compliments, you only get degraded and used.” he said bitterly. 

Colson was sobbing from the burning pain.  _ Being degraded… I don’t want that!  _ “N-no!” he cried out, trying to crawl away from Shady’s brutal hitting. “Stop it!” he whined as he was pulled back effortlessly.  _ The drug… is making it hard to move!  _ Colson continued his struggle, but it was an ineffective attempt, and his body was starting to give up on him, his muscles weakening, his mind falling asleep.  _ Spinning… my head is spinning… I can’t stop it.  _ He weeped pathetically as he felt Shady’s cock prod his entrance. It was clear that Shady had given up preparing Colson, not wanting to waste precious time. “No… no, no, no!” he implored, clawing at the sheets weakly. 

  
It wasn’t stopping. Shady wasn’t stopping like last time, and that realization terrified Colson to the core. “Please… I’m begging you, I don’t wanna!” his voice was weak, nearly impossible to hear. It was like his entire body pulled away from reality, unable to process the pain any longer. He knew Shady was continuing, he could still feel it. The intrusion of his dick, pulling in and out of Colson without regard.  _ I’m gonna… pass out.  _ He laid against the bed, his body supple. He allowed Shady to continue his brutal excuse of sex, pounding into Colson, hard enough to draw blood.  _ I deserve this… for kissing Marshall… Shady, please, forgive me.  _

Because Colson’s perception of reality had been completely twisted, it felt like ages had passed until Shady came for a third time, shooting his semen into Colson, and adding to the cum that was inside him already. When he finally pulled out, it felt awkward and empty. Colson had grown used to having Shady’s dick buried inside him, and it felt wrong to be left without it. He wanted to look up and see what Shady was doing, but it was like he could barely move his lungs to breathe, let alone move his muscles. He felt his eyes and cheeks grow hot, and it was then he realized he was crying. From quiet tears, Colson shifted to sobbing again, this time like a wounded animal. 

He stopped abruptly when he heard the door shut. “Eh…? Shady?” he croaked, unable to look up. “Where did you go? Don’t leave me!” he begged, weeping into the closed air. He went on for several minutes, until he heard the door open again.  _ I’m like a spoiled child… crying until I get what I want.  _ Colson, from where he could see, watched Shady appear from the staircase, carrying a laptop. He looked at him with questioning eyes. 

“I have a gift for you.” Shady smiled, approaching Colson and lowering to his knees. He placed the laptop onto the floor, opening it. “I’m gonna renovate your room,” he started, putting in the password, and waited for the device to boot up. “I already ordered new carpet, wallpaper and I hired some people to fix up the bathroom.” he continued, launching Safari. “I want you to pick a bed, vanity table and matching chair.” Shady stopped when he realized Colson was looking at him with cold, tired eyes. “Ah… I guess you’re overstimulated,” he sighed with an understanding nod. “Want daddy to stay the night?”

Colson nodded before Shady even finished his sentence, emitting a chuckle from the other. He felt his body be moved, gently turned onto his back and pushed to the side. Shady was now laying next to him, his arm under Colson’s neck, his hand running through his hair. “... are you really gonna buy me a bed?”

“Of course I am,” Shady reassured, “I don’t want my princess to sleep on the floor. I want to build your paradise, however you’d like it.” he continued, turning his gaze to the ceiling. “I’m gonna have people come in and expand the basement, so you can have a walk-in closet.” it wasn’t a secret that Colson loved fashion, and it could be concluded by looking at any of his pictures or videos. Shady knew he would put hours into his looks, so he wanted to accommodate. He wanted to continue talking, but stopped himself when he realized Colson was starting to fall asleep. 

Shady laid there in silence for several minutes, pondering his love for Colson. It was hard to believe that people, both friends and fans, were looking for him, and Colson had only made one attempt to leave. It made Shady happy, knowing Colson was starting to return the feelings Shady had built up for so many months. His thoughts were interrupted when Marshall piped up.  _ Shady, serious talk, what do you think happened to him?  _ Shady’s expression soured, because he didn’t know. He hadn’t stopped to seriously consider why Colson had a breakdown, and why he was repeating the same phrase repeatedly. Was he trying to recall his identity? Did it work? He tried to come up with answers that kept popping into his head, but he would keep drawing blanks. Instead, he decided to spend the precious time he had with Colson. 

When Colson slurred awake, he felt a strange sickly aura to himself, one he got after hangovers and weeks on the road. He sat up, gripping onto his head.  _ Spinning, spinning spinning, sp-  _ he stopped when his vision cleared and he got his body under check. “... Shady?” he looked around, but his caretaker was nowhere to be found, but his laptop was still there.  _ I could go on Twitter… no, I don’t know the password.  _ He forced his gaze away, his eyes landing on the bathroom. “I need to piss,” he decided, moving to his knees. 

Slowly, with drained movements, Colson crawled, inching to the bathroom, but was stopped when he remembered the glass on the floor. It was still there, and the thought of it was enough to make his feet hurt in memory. He was stopped right by the door, where his eyes ghosted over the door that was open so slightly, it allowed just a peek inside. His attention was pulled away when he heard footsteps descending down the staircase. 

Shady appeared from the stairway with a tray in hand. “Did you need to pee, baby girl? He chuckled, placing the tray onto the floor, next to the bed. He walked towards where Colson was sitting, and kneeled down. “I can help you to the bathroom,” he started, placing one hand onto Colson’s head and petting it, while his other hand found its way to the blond’s abdomen. “But you gotta ask nicely,” he cooed, starting to build pressure onto where his hand rested. He smiled cockily when Colson audibly gasped and bit his lip. “Unless, you wanna wet yourself again?”

“N-no…” Colson whispered, twisting his legs, recalling the first time he had an accident. The humiliation he had felt was impossible to relive without flushing a deep shade of red. “P-please, daddy. I need to pee.” he whined, gently grabbing onto Shady’s shoulders. “Please help me to the bathroom, I can’t walk.” his whines grew louder as he felt the pressure grow on his abdomen. “I don’t wanna… wet myself it’s embarrassing.”

“So cute…” Shady teased, moving his hands away. He hooked his arms under Colson, one under his knees, and the other at his lower back. He lifted him up, carrying him into the bathroom. He carefully made his way through the scattered glass on the floor, and when he reached the corner, he placed Colson down onto the edge of the toilet. “Go on,” he assured, “do you want me to turn around?” when Colson nodded shyly, Shady did so. While he waited for Colson to finish, he looked down onto the floor where the glass resided. “I’ll move your stuff to the attic tomorrow,” he said.

Colson hummed in acknowledgement. “I’m finished,” he announced, watching as Shady approached him. He was lifted up, and slowly carried back to the bed. Colson yawned, feeling the events of the day sit on his shoulders, rapidly draining him of his energy. “Is… it okay if I sleep now?”

Shady nodded, gently placing Colson down onto the bed. “Why wouldn’t it be okay princess?” he said as he pulled the duvet over Colson’s torso. “Tomorrow, we can have breakfast upstairs, and you pick out new stuff for your room while I move your things upstairs.” he clarified, placing a kiss onto Colson’s forehead. “Goodnight, princess.”

“Goodnight, daddy.”

  
  



	12. Evasion

Colson woke up the morning after with a pulsing headache. The several twisting events that had taken place in a short span of time were too much for his mind and body to handle. His back was hurting a little bit less, but it was still brutal, to the touch. His fingers were scabbing because of the burns, and his feet were still impossible to walk on. However, despite all the injuries and confusion, Colson woke up… happy. He stretched with a yawn, like a Disney princess. Fictional and unrealistically cheerful. With a quick glance around the room, Colson was met with an empty spot of carpet where a tray of food would usually be waiting for him, and it made him raise an eyebrow. He was left alone for several minutes before the door clicked open from above, and like a Pavlov dog, he looked up with a bright smile. 

Shady descended down the stairs, wearing a large, black hoodie and baggy sweatpants. “Good morning, princess,” he sang, stopping at the last step. “Come on, crawl over to daddy.” he gestured towards him, smiling when Colson quickly moved to his knees. “Good girl, come on, let’s go upstairs, I wanna have breakfast with you.”

That statement made Colson stop in his tracks, looking Shady up and down in suspicion. “...upstairs?” he asked, tilting his head. This had to be a trick. Colson had gotten the punishment enough to know not to leave the basement, but Shady was offering it to him. Was it because he had been a good girl? Or maybe Shady was preparing him for going upstairs while people worked on the basement for him. Regardless of the reason, Colson was scared and hesitant as he looked up at his lover. 

“It’s not a trick, I promise.” Shady assured, pointing up the stairs. “Now hurry! I made waffles.” even before finally having Colson to himself, he knew of his favourites. From colours, designer brand, cologne, Shady knew everything. “Besides, I need this place empty while it’s being fixed up. So, I’m gonna move you to the guest bedroom.” he said. 

Colson nodded, ready to trust Shady with his life. He started to crawl closer to the stairs, placing his knee onto the first step, swallowing as he made his way up. His heart was pulsing so loud, Colson was worried it was going to hop out of his throat and land onto the wooden floor. The door was wide open, and the memories of him trying to make an escape came rushing back.  _ Why did I … try to escape? What’s even out there for me?  _ He tried to swallow away the lump in his throat, but it wasn’t budging, so he continued his journey upwards, stopping when he passed the door. He could feel his head spinning. He was startled just slightly when he felt Shady place a hand on his head, as he hadn’t even heard him climb the stairs. 

Despite having been in the dining room before, Colson hadn’t paid close attention to it, as it was when he was having glass removed from his feet and the pain had stopped him from paying attention to his surroundings. The dining hall was modern, luxurious and chic, with dark wooden floors contrasting the cream white walls. The furniture was either very new, or it had gone unused until recently. Granted, Marshall didn’t seem like he was a socializer, so Colson pieced together that guests were a rarity. One thing Colson didn’t fail to realize was how cold the room was. It explained Marshall’s fashion, even at home, but it was still hard to believe someone of his status and wealth couldn’t afford a heater.

On the table was an abundance of food. From waffles, fruit, different types of bread and jam, it was a feast, and Colson didn’t hesitate for a moment to dig in. Climbing onto the nearest chair with very little difficulty, considering his height, Colson got comfortable, before grabbing a plate.

Across from him, Shady sat in silence, watching Colson wolf down the breakfast in amusement. He knew Marshall’s body was growing hungry, but he would just feed it later. In that moment, all Shady wanted was to watch what was his, enjoy being spoiled. When Colson finished gulping down his iced coffee, he looked at Shady with needy eyes, and it made Shady raise an eyebrow. “What is it?”

“I’m cold.” Colson admitted, embarrassed. 

Shady chuckled and pushed his chair out, getting up. “I’ll go get your jacket,” he offered. “Remind me to go shopping for you today.” he teased, passing Colson. “You eat, I’ll be right back.” he smiled, petting his blond locks happily.

His trip to the basement was filled with silence, as Marshall was nowhere to be found. It was strange, but he seemed to have started giving Shady the cold shoulder again, and for the first time in years, Shady didn’t know why. They weren’t on bad terms, so why was Marshall being so quiet? The question danced at the back of his mind as he grabbed Colson’s jacket off of the desk in the basement. He turned on his heel to leave, but stopped when he heard a small thud. “...?” Shady turned back around to retrieve what had fallen out of Colson’s pocket. He stared at the carpet, his breathing slowing down, nearing a stop. On the floor, a small chocolate of Marshall’s favourite brand stared back at him. 

Never, in the history of his life on Earth, had Shady felt so enraged at a sight in his life. The kiss was one thing, and both Colson and Marshall had learned their lesson. But this? To not only accept a gift, an act of kindness and affection from Marshall, but to  _ hide  _ it from Shady? He had finally cracked under the pressure of keeping Colson happy, and being rejected. Shady felt the leather jacket slip from his fingers, falling onto the floor. He could hear his blood run through his veins, stopping at his heart and looping.  _ You. Are. Dead to me.  _ Shady turned on his heel and stormed up the stairs, ready to brutalize Colson beyond recognition. 

Meanwhile, Colson sat in silence, his meal finished. He was happily thinking of what he and Shady could do together for the day, and how he was going to be getting a new bed. How exciting! “Ah, you’re back!” Colson said cheerfully, “hey, hey, I was thinking for today, we could-” an abrupt force knocked Colson off of his seat, and he was thrown onto the wooden floor. He could feel his stomach pulsing with pain, alerting his body of danger. “Wh-what are you…Ah!” he was hit again. And again, and again. Like a brutal, unalterable fate that was going to follow him to his death, Colson was hit and kicked repeatedly. Within his beating, Colson could hear Shady yelling at him, the anger in his voice evident with the way he was yelling. Until that point, Colson had never been yelled at, even when being punished. 

“You’re always crawling back to that asshole, like the fucking slut you are! So focused on getting dicked down, you don’t care who it’s from!” Shady shouted, grabbing the crying blond from his hair. “You fucking whore, you should be rotting in hell for being so desperate! Want cum dripping out of every hole in your body that fucking bad?!” he slammed Colson’s head against the wall, ignoring the cries and begs. “You just wanna be someone’s cockslut, being fed nothing but jizz but here I am! Doing the most and more for an ungrateful slut!” He continued to bash Colson’s head, the blond scratching at his wrists only feeding him with adrenaline. 

He continued until Colson passed out and harshly let go, watching the blond slip off of the wall, falling to the floor. There was a lump of blood where Colson had been repeatedly hit, and a streak of red where his head had slid. Where he laid unconscious, a small but visible pool of blood started to form, suggesting that the brain damage he had taken was permanent. Shady could hear his own panting, his hand bloodied and pulsing due to the punches he had thrown. “...” he swallowed, slowly backing up and lowering himself onto the chair where Colson was previously sat. 

Minutes that felt like hours had passed, and Shady was in the same spot, staring at Colson’s body. The fear of having killed his lover was paralyzing, and it made Shady want to cry. He kept his gaze locked on the blond, refusing to break away and face reality that he may have just murdered his princess. Someone he worked so hard to have for himself, someone who meant the world to him.  _ My cheeks are wet… am I crying? Is this crying?  _ Shady couldn’t move to wipe his tears, his body frozen in time.  _ I wanted to spend the future with you… to be with you forever, to live in a castle with you. So why did I just ruin that?  _ Shady could feel vomit climbing his esophagus. “Marshall… I ruined it… what I had with Colson.” The shame in his voice was great, but for the first time in decades he had spent with Marshall, Shady did the unthinkable. “Marshall… help him. I’m… too scared to check.”

The reassurance that Shady wasn’t going to kill him was what made Marshall come back, breaking his silence.  _ Let me see.  _ And with that, he had control over his body again. When he came to, he couldn’t help a startled gasp that he let out at the sight. “... what the fuck did you do?” he asked, and when he received no reply, he assumed it was because Shady was hiding. So, with fear polluting his mind, he stood up. The idea that Colson was laying there dead was enough to make him gag, and it was no secret that he had developed feelings for Colson, so it made the situation all the more terrifying. “...” he approached Colson’s body and sank to his knees. Marshall placed his index and middle finger onto the blond’s neck, feeling around for a pulse. The overpowering feeling of relief flooded his mind as he felt the soft pulsing. “Thank God!” he leaned down and grabbed onto Colson, pulling him into a hug. “It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay.” he assured, more to himself rather than the blond. 

He had sat there for several minutes before his breathing calmed down. When it did, Marshall decided to clean Colson’s head wound, to avoid any possible infection. His rational part of the brain wanted to call an ambulance, as he had no medical training, but he knew better than that. Still, he had to call  _ someone.  _ “Hm… fuck it.” Marshall got up, reaching for his phone that was sitting, forgotten, on the table. He took it and pressed three on the speed dial. After a few beeps, there was a click, and Marshall smiled in relief. “Paul, I … need your help.”

Meanwhile, across the metropolis, at a corner where Pete’s favourite bar resided, he and his friends stood, waiting for an uber. They had spent the past four and a half hours handing out missing person fliers for Colson, but unfortunately, no one seemed to have a clue where he could be. While everyone in the group was ready to call it a day, Rook was standing his ground, telling them to go home, and that he was going to stand there all night. “Look,” Pete started, placing a hand on Rook’s shoulder. “I know you’re worried, we all are, but we’ve been here all day, no one’s seen Colson.” 

Rook was visibly tired, but he wasn’t giving up. “What if when we go, the one person who knows where he is walks by here?!” he barked, slapping Pete’s hand off. “I don’t want to risk it. Colson’s out there… and if it were me, I wouldn’t want my friends to just go home!” he looked down at the flier he had in his hand. Just looking at the picture of  [ Colson ](https://www.instagram.com/p/CGGLUUwnQC6/?igshid=1174bljxxc5b9) made him want to cry. “He wouldn’t sleep until he found me, so I’m doing the same.” Because his determination was unbreakable, Rook was eventually left on his own.

He continued handing out the flyers, and when he was close to running out, he would pay the nearby bar to print more for him using the one that was usually for party and band gigs. It was nearly four in the afternoon, when Rook finally sat down. He kept his gaze locked on the picture in front of him, his eyes welling up. “Where did you go?” he kept asking. 

“Who’s that?”

Rook’s head shot up at the voice, and was met with a man visibly larger than him, looking down. He was dressed in a casual sweater and jeans, but he was very well kept. Rook quickly stood up, evidently too fast, as he dropped the last few fliers he was holding. “Ah, sorry, this is um,” he bent down to collect them, and when he got back up, he saw that the stranger was holding one of the fliers that had fallen. “My friend is missing. He has been for a few days now.” 

The man read through the flier, turning it to its back to ensure he didn’t miss anything. “Huh, it’s that rockstar.” he hummed, looking at Rook. “Alright, well, I’d love to chat but I gotta run. I’ll keep an eye out for your friend.” he assured.

“Thank you! Anything will help at this point,” Rook stressed, watching the man walk off, waving on his way. “I just hope… you’re not in pain right now.” he mumbled, looking at the picture again. 

Back at Marshall’s house, the brunet was sitting on the floor, next to Colson, his legs long asleep. He was impatiently waiting for Paul to arrive and help him. In the meantime, Marshall was digging deep into the creative part of his brain for a story that wouldn’t land him in jail or a psychiatric institution. So far, he had nothing. He felt his heart jump when he heard the doorbell ring. Using the table for support, Marshall limped to the front door, his legs feeling like TV static. He clicked open the door and cracked it open just enough to see who was at the door. “Thank God you’re here, quick, come in.” Marshall reached out and grabbed Paul by the arm, yanking him inside. 

“What was so urgent that couldn’t-” the annoyed and frustrated look on Paul’s face slipped right off when he was greeted with the sight in front of him. The same face from the flier sitting, folded up, in his back pocket, was now laying on the floor, unconscious and injured. It wasn’t an accidental injury either, as it was obvious he was hit several times in the same spot. “...”

Marshall quickly ran in between them, blocking Colson from Paul’s vision. “Look I know it looks bad but you have to believe me!” he pleaded. “It wasn’t me, it was- it was…”

“What was it then huh?!” Paul grabbed onto Marshall’s shoulders. “Do you have any idea how many people are looking for that kid right now?!” he shoved him out of the way, approaching Colson’s limp body. “Why the fuck is Machine Gun Kelly in your house, Marsh?!” he stressed, “and why the fuck is he half dead?”

“That’s what I needed help with man!” Marshall quickly came over and sat down next to Colson. “I wasn’t trying to hurt him, you gotta believe me, please.” he fussed. “Help me fix this, you’re smart, you’re like a nerd or whatever, can’t you fix this?” 

“I’m not a fucking doctor!”

Marshall ran a stressed hand through his short brown locks. “Look, let’s just clean up the wound and… and patch it up.” he suggested. “If you help me, I’ll explain everything. You have my word.” he promised, looking at his friend with hopeful eyes. “I swear there’s an explanation for this.”

While they were working on Colson’s head wound, Marshall poured out every last thing he had been burying in his head. From Shady, the dark fantasies he had, to confessing that technically, it was him who kidnapped and tormented Colson. He knew very well that Paul could easily go to the police, but he still couldn’t hold himself back. Talking to someone about the demon that had been torturing for years was far too liberating. “I’m sorry to have kept it from you.” he said, watching Paul wrap Colson’s head with bandages. “I wanted to tell someone, but I’m not evil, the things he does are psychopathic.”  _ God… am I about to start crying?  _ “I didn’t want to be blamed for the things he did, especially not now.” Marshall could feel his eyes well up. “I don’t want to… be blamed for something like this. Taking him from his life, beating him and… sexually assaulting him,” those words alone were enough to make him nauseated. “I don’t want to be held responsible for those things, because…” he swallowed, knowing well Shady wouldn’t go easy on him after the statement he was about to make. “... I wouldn’t do this to someone I love.”

Paul listened in silence. It made a little bit of sense, what Marshall was saying. It explained his sudden change in attitude, how he showed up some days to work battered up, how he seemed out of control with his words. More importantly, these were things Paul had noticed years ago, and it was long before Machine Gun Kelly was ever a thing, so it wasn’t a coverup to get away with this. “... can you promise me he’s happy here?”

That was a questionable thing on its own, because despite being beaten and assaulted several times, Colson seemed happy. He seemed excited, even, to have breakfast with Shady. “Yes, you have my word.” he promised. “I can’t protect him at all times but… Shady really does love him. So, he’ll go to crazy lengths to keep him happy.” he explained, watching Paul get up from where he was sat. “Thank you, for your help.” 

“You know what,” Paul rubbed his eyes in frustration. “As long as he’s kept safe and happy here, I won’t tell.” he said as he zipped up his jacket. “But, you should consider giving him back, even if you have to fight your… demon or whatever. He has a family, Marshall. Some kid, his drummer or whatever, was standing on the corner of ninth and fifteenth for seven hours, handing out fliers.” he watched Marshall nod in shame, sighing. “Just… don’t fuck up okay?”

That night, when Rook finally made it home, he was greeted with an envelope taped on his door. He took it, opening it up, nearly falling to his knees when he read it. 

_ Colson is okay, he’s happy.  _

  
  



	13. Cruel

_ Happy?! What the fuck?! Who left this here?!  _ Rook’s mind was racing as he fumbled with his bag, his exhausted state jolting awake. Rook pulled his phone out, dialing Pete’s number frantically. As he, very impatiently, waited for Pete to pick up, he kept rereading the five words written on an otherwise blank paper. “Pete?! Listen, I need you to meet me at The Varnish in twenty, it’s about Kells.” he said, hanging up. Completely forgetting about how tired he was, Rook turned on his heel and booked it down the hall, racing down the stairs.  _ Kells… where are you?!  _

Despite how tired his legs were, Rook sprinted his way to the bar, stopping only briefly to catch his breath. Once he made it to the rendez-vous, he nearly collapsed, only having his arms to hold onto the wall for support. He stood there for a minute or two, his chest heaving up and down, trying to clear his lungs. The bar was busy, as it was a Saturday night, and Rook had to shove his way past several people in too tight or too loose clothes. He was even carded at the door, to which he showed his ID card very aggressively, complaining that he didn’t have time for such bullshit. 

When he made it inside, Rook forced his way through sweaty drunks and made his way to the bar, where he found Pete sitting, blunt hanging lazily between his teeth. “Pete!” he grabbed him by the shoulder. “Back alley, now.” he ordered, looping his arm around Pete’s, successfully dragging the comedian with him. 

Once they were outside, where the music was not much but muffled bass, Rook stuck his hand into his pocket and tugged out the letter. “Look!” he stressed, showing off the cryptic piece of paper. “Someone who knows where Kells is, knows me well enough to know where I live.” he observed.

“That’s so fucked.” Pete shivered, exhaling the smoke from his lit blunt. “Okay, um, let’s think,” he suggested. “Gimmie,” he took the note, examining it. “Does it remind you of anyone? Cause… it looks familiar, but I can’t put my finger on who...” he alluded, rereading the words over and over again. When Rook didn’t reply, Pete sighed, folding the letter up and handing it back to the drummer. “Hey, let’s go to my place, we can think better without the music and the cold.”  _ He’s so hurt… so scared… I wish I could protect him.  _

After several minutes of standing in silence, the two eventually decided to head to Pete’s apartment, to try and come up with any possible leads about the note. Their trip was short but it felt awfully long, because both men were completely silent. In their minds, they were trying to their limit to come up with a possible suspect for the note. Someone who knew where Rook lived and knew of Colson’s whereabouts? It was an impossible list. When they arrived at Pete’s apartment, Rook was quick to make himself at home. He took off his shoes, throwing the letter onto the table and flopping onto the couch and stretching. “I’m so tired…” he mumbled. 

_ No wonder… poor thing. _ Pete cleared his throat, stuffing his hands into his pocket. “Hey, why don’t you go take a shower and get some rest.” he suggested, kneeling down next to the couch, patting Rook on the head. “You’ve been doing more than anyone for Colson, and you should rest.” he explained. “I’ll go through the possibilities in the meantime.” he continued to pet Rook’s hair, until the shorter man got up.  _ Shit… was I being too intimate? Is he gonna hate me?  _ He panicked for a brief moment, before Rook spoke up. 

“Thank you,” he said, walking past Pete and making his way to the bathroom door. “It’s okay if I use your towels, right?” he asked reluctantly, eyeing Pete.

“Of course you can!” Pete exclaimed, getting up. “Take your time, I’ll order us dinner as well.” he acknowledged, watching Rook disappear into the bathroom.  _ He’s been working so hard… I should be there for him more.  _ Pete took the note that was lazing on the table, and as he sat back down, he read it. “It seriously feels like a dead-end.”  _ Huh? That sentence feels familiar, I wonder if I just plagiarized someone unknowingly.  _ He shook away the intrusive thought, looking it over again.  _ No… that sentence feels… like it belongs here, like there was a reason I-  _ Pete audibly gasped, scrambling to his feet and practically booking it to his room. 

_ Sorry kid, your girl’s got the voice of an angel, but it’s her style. It seriously feels like a dead-end.  _

He yanked open a drawer that was filled to the brim with binders, duotangs and scraps of papers with phone numbers, passwords and other information written on them. Furiously going through them, Pete tossed the unneeded appears behind them, ignoring where they landed. “Gotcha!” he tugged out an envelope that was opened already, and he pulled out the letter inside.

_ Pete Davidson.  _

_ We here at Def Jam Recordings appreciate your suggestion, but we regret to inform you that the artist Ariana Grande does not fit the urban, hip hop standard we hold. We apologize for any inconvenience this may cause.  _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Paul Rosenberg, CEO. _

Rolling his eyes, he tossed the letter aside, reaching back into the envelope and pulling out a small sticky note that was attached to the letter when it first arrived. “H-holy shit.” he could feel his heart speed up, his ears ringing. 

_ You're a funny kid, haven’t laughed that hard in an interview. Your girl is lucky. Sorry about not being able to sign her though. _

Pete nearly lost his footing. No, not nearly, he actually fell when his brain connected what he was seeing. He felt the world was slowing down to a stop, the words on the sticky note were starting to twist and swirl out of shape, some of them not looking correct anymore. “He… no… what…” Pete brought his hand to his face, covering his mouth in shock. Not a fucking chance in Hell this guy was responsible for Colson’s abduction right?! He was so … funny, humble and… not like this!” he whispered, not wanting to risk having Rook hear him.  _ He can’t know. Not till I know for sure. If Rook finds out… he’ll crack under the pressure.  _

Pete decided to investigate on his own, so he quickly got to cleaning up the papers that were scattered about the room, randomly shoving them back into the drawer and slamming it shut.  _ Fuck! Okay, I just gotta act natural. Just gotta- _

“Hey.”

The comedian couldn’t hold back a startled yell that jumped out. “Hey! Y-you’re back!” he laughed, knowing that he probably came off like a murderer who just got caught getting rid of the body. 

“And you’re acting super weird.” Rook said, raising an eyebrow. “Look, whatever, I just… wanna sleep. Is it okay if I take your bed?”

“I mean we could share the bed, it’s pretty big.”  _ Just say you wanna cuddle dumbass, make it a bit more obvious why don’t you?  _ Pete felt relieved when Rook nodded, agreeing that it would be better than sleeping on the couch.  _ I’ll… go his building tomorrow, ask him what the fuck is going on.  _ Pete decided, sitting on the bed, his hands shaking. “Y-you wanna wear my clothes? I got clean ones.” 

Rook eyed him, laughing. “Um, okay? Are you like, super tired or something? This isn’t like you.” he commented, opening Pete’s closet and pulling out the first hoodie he could find. When the comedian didn’t respond, Rook brushed it off, and pulled the hoodie on. “Any luck with the note?” he asked, getting under the blanket. He watched Pete climb under it as well. 

“No,” he lied. “It’s like… a handwriting I don’t recognize.”  _ I don’t want to lie to you, I wanna tell you what I saw but… I won’t put you in harm’s way. I refuse to.  _ “Tomorrow, I gotta get something done for Ari, but I’ll meet you later.”

“I thought you guys broke up.” Rook said, his tone bitter.

Pete groaned, pulling the blanket over his face. “Yes, oh my god, we did, but we’re not fucking enemies Rook, I still wanna help her get her shit done.” he reached out, grabbing Rook by the waist and yanking him close. “How would you feel if I kept bringing up your breakups, hmm?” he teased, awfully close to his ear. 

“H-hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Rook protested grabbing onto Pete’s wrists, trying to pull them away, furious at the deep pink that his cheeks were turning to. “L-look I thought we were gonna sleep!” he demanded, groaning quietly when Pete squeezed him in the embrace. 

“We will!” Pete continued, starting to tickle Rook and watching him laugh and snort while trying to push him off, insisting that it wasn’t fun.  _ His laugh sounds so pretty, I wish I could hear it all the time.  _

Meanwhile, Marshall was sitting down next to his bed, staring at the floor. Paul had left hours ago, but he couldn’t find the strength to move. He would reluctantly look at Colson who was laying on the bed, and force his gaze away from guilt.  _ Marshall… how badly did I fuck up?  _ Marshall thumped the back of his head against the wall, in an attempt to tell Shady that he was not in the mood, but he wasn’t letting go.  _ Please, tell me he’s okay. If anything happens to him, this’ll all be for nothing.  _ “What do you want me to say, huh?” Marshall argued, letting out a drawn out sigh. “You nearly killed him. Do you want a medal or something?” he stopped when he heard a soft groan from the blond, and it seemed to have caught Shady’s attention too, because he was already trying to shove Marshall out of the way.  _ Let me see him, please. I want to see my princess.  _ Without arguing, Marshall let go. 

Shady wasted no time in crawling over to the bed, climbing onto it. “Colson?” he whispered, running a hand across the blond’s forehead, pushing some of the loose strands of hair out of the way. He couldn’t help a smile when Colson tilted his head, no doubt wanting to feel the touch again. “Hey, princess.” he soothed, continuing the way he was petting Colson. 

_ This feeling… this familiarity… Fuck! My head!  _ Colson’s entire body was so numb with exhaustion, that it was impossible to move. Instead, he kept on trailing after the comforting touch he was receiving and the soft spoken voice calling his name.  _ I can’t move my body, it’s so tired, but I don’t seem to be hurt anywhere… asides from my head.  _ Colson tried to open his eyes, but as soon as he moved his eyeballs, his eyelids snapped shut in reflex, and he groaned in pain. “F-fuck.” 

“Colson, what’s wrong?” Shady asked, the concern in his voice increasing by the second. He was quick to inch closer to the blond, trying to see if there was anything visibly wrong. However, Colson seemed okay, for lack of a better word. Yes, the swelling on his head was big enough to make it look like he had a second brain, but other than that, there didn’t seem to be anything wrong. But with the way Colson was acting, Shady was anxious that there was an invisible problem. 

“I…” Colson trailed off, forcing his eyes open. “No… no, no... I- I can’t-”

Shady gently grabbed Colson’s hands. “What? You can’t what, princess?” he asked, his voice losing the cold confidence it always held. One look into Colson’s eyes was enough to make his brute personality shatter. The previously gorgeous baby blues were now botched and red, the spider-like webs of veins bulging and pumping blood into the white sclera, making it a somber red. “Shit…”

Colson yanked his hands away with such choppy movements that he nearly fell off of the side of the bed. “Why can’t I see?! Shady, why the fuck is everything dark?!” he panicked, grabbing at his face, his voice trembling with shock. He pulled on his eyelids, forcing them further up, as though that would help him see. 

_ What the fuck did you do?!  _ Shady stared at the panicked man struggle, unable to move a single muscle. “I… C-colson, I-” he gulped, the word sorry impossible to pull out of his throat. He knew he had done this, he knew that he had bashed Colson’s head too much and something in his brain had short-circuited.  _ Apologize! Do something!  _ Marshall continued to yell at him, but Shady couldn’t move.  _ Some fucking romantic relationship you’ve got, blinding the fucker!  _ “Colson, I’m…” before he could attempt to say anything, Colson was reaching for him, a bit too far to the right. Without hesitation, Shady grabbed him by the arms and pulled him into a hug. “It’s okay, it’s okay princess…” he shushed, petting Colson’s hair as he cried loudly. “Shhh… Daddy’s here.” 

_ You can’t be serious.  _ It had been three hours, and Colson had passed out from exhaustion again, so Shady had left him in Marshall’s bed. He was now downstairs, cleaning the kitchen after having made Colson dinner, and arguing with Marshall. He had proposed that maybe Colson going blind wasn’t such a bad idea, and that it could even be beneficial, and Marshall was having none of it. “You don’t get it, Marsh.” he stated, placing the lasagna into the oven. “He’s even more dependant on me. Not only can he not walk, but now he can’t see. Try to be optimistic.”  _ OPTIMISTIC?!  _ Shady flinched at the loud yell in his head.  _ You fucking Michael Myers-ed him so hard he’s BLIND. And you’re telling me to be optimistic?!  _ “You’re the one who snitched on me to Paul so don’t talk shit.” Shady spat, slamming the oven door shut. 

“Now, he’ll need my help for literally everything.” he defended, setting the oven’s temperature. “Now quit being a bitch.”  _ Just… let me take over, I gotta call someone about work tomorrow, tell ‘em I’m not coming in.  _ Shady was suspicious about the sudden idea, and decided to verbalize it. “Fine, but don’t you  _ dare  _ go near Colson.”


End file.
